“Not so hard,” Thomas whispered. “Release your lip a little, and relax those eyelids… Also, open up your face.”
“Open my face?”
“It closed off. Relax your features, put your shoulder back. It’s vulnerable being on your knees in front of someone…”
Scott frowned. He didn’t feel vulnerable on his knees, or sucking cock. He’d always felt the opposite, powerful, in control, in his goddamn element. In fact, he’d not felt vulnerable with any of his clients, any excepthim.
Warren.
Scott hadn’t been in control that night, and every nasty, grotesque thing that spewed from snarling lips could’ve happened.
Scott wouldn’t have been able to stop it.
He’d been vulnerable, helpless, and scared.
“Too far,” Thomas whispered. “You’ve gone too far.”
“What?” Scott blurted, opening his eyes.
“You looked frightened.”
“Sorry, I…”
Scott didn’t say anything more.
When Thomas cupped his cheek, Scott froze, wide-eyed.
“The camera couldn’t see your face properly,” Thomas explained as he repositioned Scott’s head. “There we are. Eyes closed. Lip slightly bitten. Expression open. Chin lifted. Shoulder down. Beautiful.”
Another flash of cold followed by a slow simmering warmth went through Scott’s brain. It was the wrong moment to find out he had a very specific praise kink. Specific to Thomas. He’d been called beautiful hundreds of times, but while he was in work mode, while he wasthatScott, the escort.
Not whoever this Scott was because he wasn’t sure himself.
Thomas had always made it crystal clear Scott wasn’t his type, but he’d called him beautiful at least four times that morning, and it gave Scott a happy buzz each time he did.
“Here it comes,” Thomas murmured. “Don’t overact.”
Scott’s lashes fluttered ascumhit his face. It ran over his eyebrow and his left lid before clinging to his cheek.
“And another,” Thomas said, dropping morecum. “And another…” He hummed, satisfied. “I think that’s a one-shot wonder.”
Scott smiled. “Don’t you mean a three-cumshot wonder?”
Thomas laughed. “I see what you did there.”
Scott opened his eyes, only to find one opened like normal, but his left eyelashes clammed together. “Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing his eye.
“I thought that might happen.” Thomas sighed.
“What is it?” Scott asked, trying to pick it from his lashes.
The substance left Scott’s fingertips tacky, sticky…
“Thomas…”
“Yes, Scott?”
“What is on my face?”
