I leaned forward with closed eyes, holding in a breath. After a hesitant moment, I felt him sweep his fingertips across my eyelids, grazing my lashes gently as any brush. He drew a few careful lines on my face, and I was touched by his attentiveness.
Forgetting my hands were still drenched in the ink, I took hold of Khent’s face and kissed him for being so thoughtful. I rose up on my knees, sinking into the kiss as he received me, merging into his lap. I drew my thumb along his jaw, stroking his cheek as I kissed him deeper, brushing my tongue against his teeth. Eventually we broke apart, and we were left breathing heavily, holding each other’s stare.
“Oh, oops,” I giggle when I realize there are now matching palm prints on the sides of his face.
“You can mark me how you like,” he shrugs, and I nod, bumping my nose against his.
He grins at that. His fingers kiss along my eyes with gentle dots, and sweep delicately across my cheeks, and over the bridge of my nose. I expand on the design on one side of his face and draw a pair of lines across the other side, continuing down his neck. He shrugs out of his shirt as I continue my design on his shoulder and spread it across his chest.
I want to touch him whole-handedly, but I know that unless I keep to only using my fingertips, I wouldn’t be able to take my time with this. And I want to savor every second of this, to feel what it really meant to be unabashedly open with my feelings for Khent.
He marks my upper lip carefully with the ink, with a touch so tender and careful to avoid any mistake. I dare not breathe and disturb what he was doing. Somehow, it’s more intimate than a kiss.
He wet the tips of his fingers in the oil again, and I feel a heavy drop of ink slip down my chin. It travels down, drawing a warm line of its own on my throat, before it slips down the valley of my breasts.
Without thinking, I caught his finger in my mouth. I licked a trail down the length of it, and sucked the oil off his finger.
“It’s got a bitter taste,” I say, surprised. “But I like it.”
Khent raises an eyebrow, and I can tell he wants to make a dumb joke about that. I roll my eyes and advance before he can say anything.
I put a handprint on his ribcage as I push him onto his back, crawling forward to straddle his waist. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looks over to see me lean over his knees, dragging my teeth against his hip bones. Wetting two fingers in the ink, I draw a line from his chest along his stomach, my other hand unzipping his pants.
With the oil, I draw careful lines down from his navel to his hardened cock, and press a kiss to his stomach, making my way ever lower.
My blood is simmering with that sun-kissed warmth, singing, wanting, craving.
My fingers, small and delicate against the enormity of his cock, trace the shape, the pattern of the veins up to the head. My eyes flick up to his face as he stifles a noise under my touch. I nuzzle my lips against the soft skin and he groans at the stimulation, lifting his hips in reaction.
I giggle again and take his cockhead into my mouth, my tongue swirling around it. He lets out something of a strangled moan as my lips draw him further into my mouth.
He closes his eyes, turning his face up towards the open sky, letting the pleasure show plainly on his face, though I saw how the brickwork under his hands was starting to crack with the grip he held onto it. It must have been all he could do not to curl his fingers in my hair and fuck into my mouth.
I pulled my mouth off him with a wet pop.
“Say it again,” I tell him, flicking my tongue across his cockhead, and say, if only to see my mere words unravel him, “Call me your mate.”
I watch his hips jerk in reaction as I lick the pre-cum that is beading over his slit. I give another teasing stroke to his cock, sitting up, slipping my other hand down to stroke myself through my pants, the fabric already damp.
His chest heaves with breath before his eyes lock with mine, and he growls, “You’re my mate.”
A burst of warmth in my chest nearly knocks me over at that. I have to hold myself steady between his knees.
The thought that he had wanted this as badly as I do, that he had ached with as much need as I had, was almost too much to take in.
He cups a hand under my ass and draws me up to his level, my legs scrambling to find purchase. Gently, he brings his lips to mine, and caresses slowly but vigorously.
Clinging to his shoulders, my legs gripped around his hips, my roving hands threaten to tear his shirt off, and then mine. I wanted him to see what a mess he made me, how easily his touch made me rosy-cheeked and breathless, helpless with desire.
I grin through my kisses up at him, moving my knees apart as he pulls off my pants. His hands slide up my thighs, finding me wetter than ever.
My hands are tangling in the disaster of his thick hair, pulling him in and holding him shamelessly as he ducks down to nuzzle my thighs.
His broad shoulders graze the insides of my knees as he kneels between them, his head bent, lashes dark on his cheeks. He parts me with his tongue, my hips bucking at the sensation.
I draw in a short breath, my fingers tangling in his hair as he searches around with his tongue, finding my clit and swirling his tongue around it, his tusks bruising my inner thighs. He licks up and down my cunt, the heat of his mouth too much to bear as he alternates between tonguing my hole and sucking my clit.
“Right there, oh, do that,” I moan, my hips bucking into his mouth. I’m lost in my pleasure, finding salvation riding on the breaths of his name. “Khent, Khent, I want you in me–” I gasp, spreading my legs as wide as I can.