my hands roamed freely over your thighs and buttocks, massaging you in slow, regular strokes. Your breath now came in soft pants. I leaned over and let the saliva pool at the bottom of my lip before it dripped down to coat your cleft in a pearlescent sheen.
“Mmmm…” you murmured. Lust pooled in your eyes as you watched me work. My view of your handsome face was framed by your spread legs and your arms dutifully holding yourself open.
My tongue brushed against your tight coil, and you twisted like a silk ribbon against the sheets. I lapped at the pool of saliva with long, languid strokes that caused your tremulous bud to pulse, too shy yet to bloom. My hands kneaded the backs of your thighs, until at last, you relaxed, and my tongue made its first foray into your body.
“Henri….” you uttered, long and drawn out and hardly articulated at the end.
“You don’t have to be quiet.” I sensed you were trying to muffle your sound.
“What about Lucian and Seneser?” you questioned through half-lidded eyes.
“Ignore them.”
I wanted you unbridled and uninhibited, to be selfish with your desires. I speared you again with my tongue, so that your back arched, and your mouth uttered a lovely melody of swears. You squirmed beneath me, and I knew that both pleasure and discomfort were causing you to make such contradictory movements.
“I’m going to use my fingers now,” I said after a while, and when you didn’t object, I slid one thick digit inside you. The expression on your face was exquisite, your gasp a strangled howl. I drove straight for your gland and curled my blunt finger to stroke it. A cry tore from your lungs, sweet agony that carried across the room and echoed in my ears.
The door opened behind me, and I swiveled to see Lucian standing there, an alarmed look on his face.
“Ah,” he said. His eyes darted from my nakedness to yours, spying the juncture where we intersected and your body keeling like a boat about to capsize.
“May I join you?” Lucian asked gamely.
“No,” I growled.
“May I watch then?”
“No. And close the door.”
His gaze lingered on your prone body as wanton pleas escaped your lips, my name murmured among them in your throaty timbre. I added a second digit and pushed into you, perhaps to demonstrate my dominion over your body. The cadence of your cries escalated in their urgency as your channel cinched around my fingers.
“Lucian,” I warned, not wanting to abandon you in this heady state of arousal or have you made self-conscious by his presence.
“Selfish,” he said bitterly and slammed the door behind him.
Meanwhile, you rocked your narrow hips to meet my fingers where they thrust into you. The fluid weeping from your cock made for an excellent lubricant. I gripped your shaft snugly, an assault on two fronts.
“Henri, this is…” you craned your neck and uttered something between a growl and a purr.
“This is what, my darling?” I wanted to know your every exaltation.
“Torture. Why haven’t you done this to me before?” You sounded wounded.
“I hadn’t earned it.”
You grunted and dug back against the pillows. I considered adding a third finger, but you were stretched taut already, and close to peaking, your body so finely tuned I could time my movements to your moans.
“That’s it, my darling,” I coaxed, “let me see you lose control.”
“Not fair,” you said in a wobbly voice. Your thighs shook and your skin glistened. Your silver hair was dark at the roots and matted to your forehead as you tore your head back and forth, utterly distraught. Your fingertips dug into the flesh of your thighs, abdomen rippling from your effort.
“What’s not fair?”
“I’m not going to last.” You moaned with tears in your eyes.
“The curse of youth.”
With my fingers still slick inside you, I took your cock deep into my mouth. Your body rippled like an eel. Such a young, supple thing. So smooth and pliant in my hands. My gratification in orchestrating your pleasure was immense.
“I don’t want this to end,” you confessed, torn between your warring passions—to culminate this sensation or to prolong it. I could surely sympathize. I sat up and stroked you on two fronts, until you’d abandoned yourself to your base desires, and it seemed you could take no more.
“Come for me, Vincent.”
Your back arched like a spring green sapling. Your cock twitched as ribbons of semen shot along your sweat-slick body. You shuddered from the release, and I drove my fingers in deep,