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“Yes, we will, sir,” Max said stubbornly.
“Easy, love.” Krumm’s clawed thumb teased over one of Max’s nipples. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Yes, sir.” Max whimpered, his nipple hardening into a stiff peak.
“Mmm… good boy.” Krumm grabbed a bowl from the bedside table. It was full of a glittering black liquid, no doubt the ink Krumm had described earlier. He plucked one of the sharp spikes from the tip of his tail and then dipped the pointed end into the ink. He shifted closer, leaning over Max to kiss his forehead. “We’re going to start now, love. Remember to breathe.”
“I will, sir,” Max promised. “I will.”
“Such a good boy for me.” Krumm beamed as he made the first poke, right over Max’s heart.
The spike was so sharp that Max barely felt it. The next few were a little annoying, and he could feel his skin flushing from the continued barrage of tiny little stabs. Krumm had to make each puncture individually, and he paused often to get more ink from the bowl. He was working right in the middle of Max’s chest over his sternum, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
The tiny pricks were adding up, and it felt like Krumm was going in the same damn spot over and over again. Max tensed, the discomfort soon rising to an ache reminiscent of a bad sunburn.
“Breathe, love,” Krumm warned.
“Yes, sir.” Max groaned, and he took a few quick breaths. He wanted to relax, but it was impossible when the pain was getting worse. He grabbed the headboard to brace himself, but that only seemed to increase the agony.
“Spread your legs, love,” Krumm ordered, lifting his hand holding the spike so Max could move.
Max parted his legs, and he shivered at how they were trembling. It had to be the adrenaline.
Krumm shifted over so he was kneeling between Max’s thighs, his hard cock teasing against Max’s hip. Krumm leaned down, propping himself up on his elbows as he smirked at Max. “You’re going to take my cock, love. Maybe a little bit of a distraction will help you, hmm?”
“Will that…” Max hadn’t realized he was panting, and he tried to catch his breath. “Will that mess it up, sir?”
“No, love. My hands are very steady.” Krumm readjusted his hips so the head of his cock now bumped up against Max’s taint.
Max tilted his ass up until Krumm’s cock rested right on his hole. “May I, sir? Please?”
“Go right ahead.”
Max pushed down, making himself gasp as the head of Krumm’s cock sank in. It was so smooth and slick, and he kept rocking his hips, forcing himself to take on more. He knew if he went too fast, he’d be in trouble, and he did his best to fuck himself gently.
Krumm resumed tattooing with quick jabs of the spike, and he focused on his work, seemingly ignoring what Max was doing with his dick.
Max couldn’t resist a hard slam, just enough to make himself moan and feel a delicious burn.
Krumm growled low in warning.
Max slowed, though he continued to grind on Krumm’s big dick. It did help take his mind off Krumm’s tattooing, though soon the discomfort was becoming unbearable once more.
The burn was throbbing as if his heart was actually pressed flush with his skin, and he moaned weakly. It was moving higher on his chest as Krumm poked away with the damn spike up toward the point where Max’s collarbones met and dipped down.
Krumm stopped, and Max foolishly thought he was done.
Krumm was just grabbing a fresh spike from his tail.
Max moved his hips, and he fucked himself on Krumm’s cock a little faster. He didn’t quite have the whole length in yet, maybe just over half, and he was determined to get the rest now.
Krumm growled again, a second warning. “Slower, love. You need to go slower now.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Max grabbed at the sheets and moaned when Krumm went back to pricking his tender skin. He loved to please Krumm; he enjoyed being a good boy so much, and his praise kink was off the charts, not to mention he was madly in love with him.
But holyfuck, this hurt.
