I shrug.
“Is that what you desire?” he adds without judgment.
“I don’t care either way,” I explain.
He finishes circling me and lets out a softmmhh. I can’t tell if it’s an expression of approval or disapproval.
“But you desire sex, then?” he asks.
“I’ve never cared about sex,” I reply.
He narrows his eyes as if he didn’t believe a word, then his features relax. “So, it seems you don’t lie,” he says. How could he possibly know that? Before I can think further, Abas adds, “But tell me, why are you so needy for me?”
This time I have no retort. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t know the reason either. He lets out anothermmhhh, stepping closer this time. My breath hitches the moment he enters my personal space, but I stay completely still. He moves away as swiftly as he approached, making me wish he would come closer and finally put his large hands on me.
“Sit,” he commands, nodding to the bed.
Without hesitation, I obey. Usually, I would refuse anyone’s orders, but I’m more interested in what he’ll do next than defiance.
Abas sits on the armchair, spreading his legs wide. For a split second, I hope he’ll take his cock out and ask me to ride it.
“Undress,” he says, voice flat but demanding.
I take my uniform off and let it fall to the floor, my cock already hard beneath my trousers. When my hand automatically reaches up to take my cap off, I waver. I might be bold enough to follow my new base urges, but I’m not ready to take my hair out. It’s much too intimate.
When my trousers hit the floor, Abas lets a delicious sound escape, the sound someone makes after they’ve eaten the most delectable piece of cake.
“So eager,” he groans, his pants visibly tented. “Stroke yourself,” he commands. I reach toward my cock, but before I get there he adds, “Touch yourself like you want me to touch you.”
My hand pauses, and I close my eyes, trying to imagine what I want from him the most. I take a finger and stroke it along my jaw down to my chest. I trail it further toward my groin, but before it reaches my cock, I lift my hand and place my fingers around my throat. A sound of appreciation escapes him, and I open my eyes to look at him. His eyes are bright red. They look like split-open cherries. Without breaking the gaze, I drop my hand and start to stroke myself.
“Is that how you touched yourself, thinking of me?” he asks.
My eyes go wide.
“What did you think of when you were desperate and alone in your quarters?” he continues.
Involuntary images flash across my mind, but I try to keep my face blank, not wanting to give anything away.
“Did you stroke harder, pretending it was my hand around your cock?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply. My breath comes out in ragged little gasps as I try to control my movements.
“Did you see my lips parting around your shaft just for you?” he taunts.
At the mention, my eyes drop to his lips, full and thick. I wonder what it would feel like kissing an insolent mouth like his.
“No, that wasn’t it,” he continues, thinking for a moment. “You pictured me screaming at you again, did you not?”
“Yes,” I press out, my hand squeezing harder at his words.
“Screaming in your face, as I did when you showed up at my threshold like a lost pup.” He tilts his head. “And then…” He pauses, and his eyes narrow once more. “You imagined me punishing you.”
“Yes,” I gasp.
My eyelashes flutter, and I know I’ve given away too much. His hand clumsily unbuttons his trousers, and his thick cock juts out, looking impossibly hard.
“Did you imagine my hand around your throat while I was screaming obscenities at your face?” Abas asks.
