Basil loved Sunny's voice. It had such a beautiful sound, and Basil remembered how impressed and happy and impressed he felt when he had the privilege of listening to Sunny sing (softly, you could barely hear it) while he practiced with Mari. Mari said it helped memorize notes better, and, of course, despite his shyness, he complied. He was such a good boy and his voice was beautiful, and it made Basil feel feelings in his stomach when it struck him how Sunny's voice was getting deeper with time, matching his taller, broader frame. It felt like pure electricity ran down his spine when Sunny called his name, hoarsely, just before connecting warm, promising lips to the crook of his neck.
Basil loved Sunny's voice. It was really a shame that he spoke so seldom, and while his quietude wasn't a bother at all, Basil often ended up filling their intimate, alone silence with chatter, plant trivia and the occasional but so characteristic stutter. Did it bother Sunny? He hoped not: he couldn't help it.
Basil loved Sunny's voice. That's why he grasped strongly at any chance he had to listen to it, even if he had to take it.
Basil loved how Sunny's sighs turned into ragged breathing as he trailed kisses down his chest and abdomen. He loved how his breathing became husky and labored when he unbuttoned his pants and touched him provocatively over the thin layer of fabric left. In this moment, just as he lowered down his underwear to reveal Sunny's erection, Basil enjoyed darting his eyes up to him: then he could see Sunny in the way he loved the most: vulnerable, worked up, flustered, gazing down at him through lidded, foggy eyes. And it was all because of him. The most delicious shiver shook Basil's body and his shorts became tighter when he heard Sunny softly whimper as he kissed the tip of his dick. Basil loved Sunny's voice.
The slightly salty taste was intoxicating, addictive, and Basil used both hands to help him take all of it. And he listened to his reward, basking in the sound of Sunny's broken moans.
"Basil" half whimper, half whisper. The blonde boy felt a hand on his hair, caressing, grabbing, pulling him in, asking for release. He moaned louder. Basil smiled through his sucking and licking. "Basil, I'm gonna-" And that was his cue.
Basil stopped. And then stared deviously at Sunny, who had that adorable, incredulous expression that he also loved so much. The flower boy grinned: "Say it."
Sunny's face grew redder. He knew the game: he played it many times. And he already knew that there was no way to win. "Basil… Please."
"Please what?" His blue eyes were full of amusement as he licked oh. So. Slowly. Up and down along the shaft, denying any relief. Sunny moved his hips, desperate for anything. There were times when he put up a fight and Basil dragged him for what felt like hours. It still baffled him: how could a pretty boy like this be so mean? Controlling? This time he just couldn't. "Please, Basil, make me cum, stop doing this to me-" He begged, breathlessly. Basil almost ruined his own underwear at the sound of this plea. He loved Sunny's voice.
And he loved Sunny's taste and Sunny's scent and Sunny, and the feel of both of his hands firmly grabbing his golden locks, making sure that this time he won't leave, that he won't stop. Sunny's moans mixed with unintelligible words, eyes closed, brows frowned and flushed cheeks. All Basil could decipher was his own name. "Basil- Basil- Basil-" and the flower boy closed his own eyes when Sunny groaned and tensed up, and took him as deep as his mouth allowed. Basil loved Sunny's taste.
He slowly moved away, cleaning what was left of Sunny on the corner of his mouth. He met those beautiful black eyes, still foggy, disoriented, and was pulled in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy, hot kiss that made him remember the tightening discomfort in his shorts.
Sunny whispered in his ear, slowly kissing down the side of his neck: "you're horrible." Basil shivered. He loved Sunny's voice.
Barely he knew that Sunny loved his even more.