“Mine is boomerang. Thank you for telling me. I haven’t heard schnapps before. Any reason in particular?”
The story’s not very original. A night, a party, a string of increasingly bad decisions that mean I can’t even look at candy canes to this day.
But we’re not getting into my college misadventures right now, so I shake my head. “And I don’t really like pain.”
He stills, head tilting to the side. “Did someone hurt you?”
“Not really. It was consensual. It’s just not...I thought we should establish ground rules.”
He tsks. “Lots of ways to play. And I think you’d look pretty good with a rosy red ass under my hand.”
I shiver at the picture he’s painting. “I can handle spanking.” But Gavin liked more. He had clamps and paddles. I could do it, but it wasn’t my favorite.
Mason kisses me again, softer this time. It would almost be romantic, if we knew each other at all. But we don’t. Maybe he likes pain. Or something else. Maybe he wants to put me in a hood and plow into me until my head is spinning from pleasure and lack of oxygen.
“How about,” he says, pulling on my belt loops to get my attention. “We just do a little Tell and Show?”
My mental calisthenics screech to a halt. “Don’t you mean Show and Tell?”
“Nope. This is where I tell you what to do, and you show me how good you are at following instructions, just like you’ve been doing all afternoon.”
“That’s it?”
“One thing at a time, sweetness.”
The name makes me blush. I bury my face in his neck, and Mason strokes a hand down my back, laughing softly into my hair. But before we can get all mushy, I lift my face, reaching for his mouth, and he presses his palm to my lips.
“Undo my pants,” he says.
My hands shake as I pull his belt free, but by the time I move to his zipper, I’ve calmed myself enough that I get it down without catching a fingertip or the denim around it.
Mason’s cock strains behind his underwear—soft, gray boxer briefs by the look of them—but when I go to peel the elastic down, he puts his hands on mine, stilling me.
“Just the pants,” he says. I let my hands fall to my sides. Mason studies me, then nods approvingly. “On your knees.”
I hold his gaze the whole time I get down, kneeling in front of him. He could tell me to look down. Gavin liked to. Instead, Mason caresses my jaw and presses down on my lower lip.
“That’s going to look pretty with my cock on it,” he says. My pulse thumps, and I lick my lips, inadvertently dragging the tip of my tongue over Mason’s thumb. His nostrils flare, and he smiles. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? A good boy?”
I’m nobody’s boy. Gavin liked to call meboy, but he always made it sound like a bad thing. A weak thing. I’m not that. But the longer Mason talks, the harder my cock gets in my jeans.
“So good. Just waiting to do what you’re told, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I leave off thesirbecause it always felt weird when I called Gavin that. Mason tugs on my lip one more time then lets me go.
“Pull it out.”
Now I release his erection from his boxer briefs. It bobs, thick and heavy with a purple head. When it’s free, I settle my hands down on my knees and wait for his next instruction.
“Good,” Mason says. “Now open your mouth, and push your tongue out.”
I do as he says, trying to hold still even as nerves flutter under my skin. He strokes himself a few times, until the tip drips a single drop of clear fluid, then places the head on my tongue. I can taste him, earthy and salty, and my heart beats even faster.
“Good,” he says again. “Now hold still.”
I expect him to thrust into my mouth, but instead he stays where he is, jerking himself slowly. It’s awkward. I feel like I should be doing something more. Participating more. Helping.
“Wait,” Mason says as he strokes himself. “You can wait, can’t you?”
