“And if I don’t?” Joon replied, defiance licking through every syllable.
“You and that fucking mouth,” I mumbled, reaching a hand into my back pocket to pull out the small switchblade Indi bought me for my birthday last year.
The black handle’s grey smoke pattern shone in the dim light like mist.
I unfolded it with asnick, the metallic sheen of the blade catching on the flashing lights from above as I folded into a squat, hovering just above Joon where I was positioned between his thighs.
“Either take them off, or I’ll remove them for you.”
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in the blade. “Do it then.” It came out as almost a whisper. A look falling somewhere between keen interest and terror etched into his face.
I let my gaze drift over his body, taking in the tremble of his lips, his exposed collar bone and heaving chest before returning my attention to his cock, pressing the cold, blunt flat of the blade against his straining erection.
Joon hissed, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d heard him make a whimpering moan.
I rubbed him slowly with the knife, delighting in the obvious effort it took the omega not to move, not to breathe for fear that I would accidentally nick his most private of places.
“Cameo…” Joon begged, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh my fucking god…”
I let my blade trail to his inner thigh, circling the tip against his skin—careful not to cut, only to stimulate. I let the cool metal glide along his skin before finding its way under the thin strap of the underwear, a hand on his lower belly kept Joon still as I teased.
Joon’s breathing had turned into ragged intakes of breath, his scent filling the enclosed space as thick as syrup, making my head spin.
I was teetering dangerously on the edge of rut, Joon’s obvious enjoyment in every slight movement gnawing at my rapidly dwindling sovereignty over my emotions.
With the flick of my wrist, the sharp blade sliced through the fabric like butter.
An unintentional moan clawed from Joon’s throat, drawing a smirk to my lips as I slid the knife under the fabric to press against his bare cock, mirroring the same treatment as before.
I was rewarded with a breathy whine, the omega’s thighs shaking as another bead of precum seeped through his panties desperately.
“One day,” I crooned softly, rubbing his cock with the flat blade until he let out a near sob of need, hips grinding in the faintest, neediest bid for more. “I’ll use this on your pretty skin.” I promised, swiftly cutting the other side of his underwear to free his swollen cock with a twitch. “Leave my pretty marks all over you.”
Joon shivered when I didn’t remove the knife, choosing instead to glide it across his thighs. He shuddered, and for a moment, I worried I said the wrong thing again. My foot-in-mouth disease symptoms were always at their worst when I was around Joon. But instead of anger, or calling it quits with his safe word, I found myself on the receiving end of something much sweeter.
“Please, Master,” Joon whispered desperately, begging with his eyes as much as his sweet, devastatingly needy tone. “I need… I-I need…” He was such a mess, he couldn’t even finish, his chest heaving with the effort to stay still.
“Oh, Gattino,” I crooned softly, toeing the line of condescension as I flicked the blade shut, stowing it away into my back pocket. “Does my needy little pin cushion want to be touched?”
“Y-yes.”
“Stroke yourself,” I demanded, my hand on his pelvis moving to circle back around his throat.
He wasted no time, hand flying to his cock to pump quickly, chasing his pleasure between whimpers and moans.
“Slower.”
A whine slipped through his lips at the order, stirring to life the alpha in me that needed to assuage whatever ailed the delicate creature in my grasp as his hand slowed, fingers tight where they wrapped around his cock.
He wasn’t huge, by any standard, his slightly curved shaft an inch or two shorter than my own and rosier than the rest of his smoothly tan skin, but I was mesmerised nonetheless. The glide of his hand, helped along by luxurious beads of precum leaking needily from his tip, the uneven rise and fall of his chest, to the heavy lidded expression on his face—it all culminated into something so beautiful I wished to preserve it like one of the meticulously pinned butterflies hanging on my wall.
I could hardly take it anymore, the strain against my zipper becoming uncomfortable the longer that I denied my needs in favor of watching.
Another feminine moan met my ears, too high to be Joon’s, but I didn’t care, hardly noticed with the way he whimpered as my fingers flexed along his neck possessively.
Giving in to my desire, I unbuckled my belt and pants with my free hand, the metal of the buckle jangling as I freed my cock.
Joon’s lips parted in shock, eyes locking on my rigid length with a look just shy of worship.
