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Fuck me.
“Do you want to mark it in some cum?” he teases, and my cheeks warm. After everything we’ve fucking done, why am I fucking blushing?
“What is it?” he asks. I must’ve hesitated too long because he says, “Come on, T. Be honest.”
I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help myself with him. “Before I tell you, I want to say that it’s just a fantasy. I don’t want you to think I actually want this or would expect this.”
“I like where this is going…”
“I just like the idea of you having a tattoo of my name. Right here. Like this exact spot.”
“Really?” he sounds more intrigued than I would’ve guessed, which makes it feel less wrong.
“Yeah. I like that. A. Lot.”
“So you want to brand me?”
The wordbrandalarms me. “No, not like really. But…yes?”
He smirks mischievously. “Naughty boy,” he whispers.
“In this fantasy, I’d want you to brand me too. I was wondering where you might want your name on me. Like if you could pick anywhere on my body?”
His gaze drifts, as though he’s seriously considering it, not just thinking that my idea is this wild, ridiculous…or worse, this sick thing. “I’ll think on it,” he says. “I wouldn’t mind a stamp across your forehead.”
I laugh. “I totally called that.”
“You did not.”
“I did. I know you better than you think.”
His smile expands, as though that pleases him, and I’m glad it does.
He rolls toward me and runs the backs of his fingers along my arm, trailing down to my hand, then moves on to my abs before making a route up to the ridge between my pecs. “So many pretty places to brand my pretty man.”
I love that he called me his pretty man.
“I amyourpretty man.”
His gaze meets mine, and I hope he can tell how serious I am when I say that. When he finally looks away, he says, “It’s funny. I thought you might confess something else to me.”
“What?”
“Like why my shirt is in your nightstand. You think I haven’t noticed it the past few times I’ve been over and you’ve grabbed lube?”
Considering what we were doing when he was over, I never figured he would’ve gotten a good look at it.
My cheeks are warm again…
“You left it at the shop,” I explain.
“So you put it with your condoms and lube?”
“I…I…” Fuck, he has a way of getting me flustered.
He rests his hand on my face and strokes his thumb across my cheek. “T, why do you have my shirt in your nightstand?”
Be honest.
