I’ve never been given cheese before. I’ve hardly ever been given fuck all, so it is lovely. And I do love cheese. The whole thing is making me feel rather teary. But I don’t understand why Tristan is giving me things.
“All of your concern was for me. You never worried about Llywelyn owning you or putting you down,” Tristan says.
Oh wow. I didn’t realise it, but he is right. I don’t think a single thought about my own safety ever crossed my mind. I was consumed by concern for Tristan. Holysmokes. Look at me being all altruistic and shit. Who’d have thought it?
Tristan gestures at the cheese, “So, a thank you gift.”
I stare up at him while my stomach twists itself into knots. It is a lovely gesture. One I really don’t deserve.
“Don’t thank me.” I draw in a shuddering breath. “You had to do that to your brother, and it is all my fault.”
My eyes close, but they can’t shut out images from playing in my mind. Llywelyn’s long golden hair falling to the floor while he fucking stood there shaking and crying. His fists clenched helplessly by his side. A lump forms in my throat.
Suddenly, I’m encased in muscular arms and pressed against a very manly chest.
“None of this is your fault, Ollie!” exclaims Tristan, and he sounds very distressed by the idea. “Trying to kill me wasn’t even your idea. Being made a pet wasn’t your choice. Neither was being born a nisny in a world that doesn’t understand you. And you did not force Llywelyn to challenge me.”
I don’t know what to say to any of that, so I say nothing. I simply hug him back. Holy shit. Look at me, hugging. And do you know what? It is wonderful. I don’t care that it is sissy. I want to hug Tristan every day. Forever.
“I won,” he says softly.
“You did,” I agree.
“You made me a promise, Little Nisny.”
I lift my head to look up at him. The dirty minded motherfucker. Here we are having a sweet moment, and his mind is going to blow jobs. Not that I can blame him. He is a man, after all, and we do tend to have one-track minds. And the way we are all pressed up against eachother has given my cock ideas too. So it’s fine. I’m not insulted.
My gaze drops down towards his groin, even though I know I can’t see a thing with us all smooshed up close like this. I can feel it though. Swelling up nicely.
I swallow tightly. Crap. Now I have to make good my promise, and that’s a little daunting.
“I…um…I’m not very good at blow jobs,” I stutter. I mean, I might be bloody brilliant at them. A born natural. Possibly even gifted. But I have never given one, so I don’t know. And starting with the largest cock in the universe is a bit of a tall order.
Tristan raises an eyebrow.
“I’m not trying to get out of it!” I blurt frantically. I don’t want him to think that. “I…just want to manage your expectations.”
Tristan laughs. A full belly laugh that rumbles through me and curls my toes.
“Consider my expectations managed,” he teases.
I can’t even be mad at him. He is just too damn sexy. And he is about to let me attempt to suck on his cock.
He pulls a chair away from the table, turns it to face out towards the middle of the room, and sits on it. Then he takes a cushion from another chair and places it on the floor. Between his spread legs.
I gulp. Well, that’s awfully considerate. And strangely hot.
Slowly, I drop to my knees and thankfully I manage to land on the cushion. He looks down at me and our gazes lock. His hands dance around his waist, working the laces of his robes. His cock springs free, half-hard and fully magnificent.
I lick my lips. I’m pretty much drooling, which is very handy. But I can’t just slobber all over him. Can I? I want to make this good for him. A good place to start would be to copy whatever the hell he does to me when he blows me. But my mind is blank. Completely empty. There is not a single memory left in my brain.
This moment is the only thing that has ever existed. Kneeling here in front of him. Breathing in the manly scent of him. Feasting on the sight of his cock, mere inches from my nose. I’ve fallen into my very own universe, where this is the only thing. There is nothing else. No past, no future. Only the present.
I lean towards him. I don’t mean to, it just happens. My body knows what it wants. Maybe I should just allow it to take over? Let instincts guide me. That’s assuming I have instincts for cock-sucking. Are blow jobs necessary for evolution and survival? I feel like they should be. And if anyone was going to have cock-sucking instincts, it would be me. After all, I am gay as fuck.
Okay, deep breath. Let my gay instincts do their thing.
My tongue pokes out. I lean closer. I’m so close I can feel the heat radiating from his dick. Here goes nothing.
