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He leans back a little, his forearm resting on his forehead, his expression indiscernible in the shadows.
“It was nothing.”
“You did some breath play stuff…and damn, Ilikedit. I’m having all sorts of revelations right now. I think you unlocked a new kink.”
The click of his swallow permeates the room.
“And you stuck your tongue in my mouth.”
He runs a hand over his face and sighs.
“I wanna do that again.”
He shakes his head but continues to stay silent.
“It’s either that, or I find someone else to do it with me,” I threaten. “Don’t make me scrounge, Finn. Who knows what kind of person I’ll find. There are a lot of weirdos out there.”
He groans and then rolls away and stands up.
“Fine.”
He strolls out of the room without another word.
“Fine,” I mutter as I roll onto my back and press my hand against my throat. “What does that mean?”
* * *
We don’t talk again that night. Mainly because I doze off before he comes back and when I wake up at the first hint of sunlight, my naked body splayed across his, he’s still asleep.
But his cock isn’t. It’s hard and pressed against me. It knows what’s up.
I shift against him, feeling it drag against my stomach and Finn lets out a low groan, hoarse from sleep.
“Fuck off,” he mutters and I drag my lips across his collarbone.
“No, Finn. I want to do it again.”
“Ugh. Go back to sleep,” he grumbles.
“I can’t.”
He pries an eye open and peers up at me. I bite down on his shoulder and he grunts.
“You’re just not trying hard enough.”
“Oh, I’m hard enough,” I say and then arch my hips into him.
He rolls his eyes but he feels it, the length of my dick against him because his cheeks turn bright red.
“I’m needy, Finn, and in pain. It hurts. Make it stop.”
“So fucking dramatic,” he mumbles, and I half-expect him to ignore me, but then suddenly, I’m on my back and my hands are pinned above my head as Finn looms over me, his body stretched out at my side.
I’m completely naked, nothing hiding my straining, hard cock from his dark, searching eyes. Good. Nothing in our way.
My breath catches in my throat as I take him in—stubbled jaw, disheveled hair, flushed cheeks.
“What are you going to do to me?” I whisper, wetting my lips. God, I ache. This is so new, so different. But it doesn’t feel wrong.
