Then he freed me completely from my briefs, put the flat of his tongueagainst my balls, and licked all the way up. I held my breath. He pursed his lips, sucked on the head, then descended all the way down until he could nuzzle into my pubic hair.
I was going to combust like a teenage boy getting blown for the first time. He seemed to know it, because he pulled off of me, lips shining as they rolled my foreskin back over the head.
“I saiddon’thold back.”
“I’m trying not to finish too soon.”
“That sounds like holding back to me.”
A few strands of hair fell into his face, and I thoughtlessly tucked them behind his ear, cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch, somehow managing to look coy and innocent even with my cock leaking precum against his cheek.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll … try.”
He smiled and rewarded me with a far more chaste kiss to the tip. One of his hands held my hip, the other arm wound around my waist, trapping me against his mouth as he sucked me down.
Pressure built in my abdomen, pleasure spiking with each bob of his head. He was making wet, lewd noises, moaning like I tasted good, no regard for how sloppy we were getting.
My orgasm curled like a tongue of smoke, low in my belly. He guided my hand to palm the back of his head, and with a few thrusts and the silky knot of his hair in my fist, I knew I couldn’t hold out anymore. I stammered out a warning, but Kessian just moaned and relaxed into my hand.
I forgot to breathe so long that I barely made a sound when I came.
He swallowed. I reached for his hand and helped him up, pulling him into my arms so I could kiss him and fall back with him onto the bed.
“Remember when you told me you could be a tragic lay?” Kessian panted. “Never been so glad to call someone a liar.”
“Worth the wait?”
He beamed, nuzzling into my shoulder. “Mm. Not to sound like a desperate saddo, but when I woke up this morning getting poked by your erection, and youstilldidn’t fuck me, I gave up hope you ever would again.”
I covered my face with my hand. “Yes, that was …”
“Torture?”
“I was going to say ‘stupid,’ but ‘torture’ is more accurate.”
He laughed lightly, the bellows of his ribs against mine such a new, unique intimacy.
He softened, got quiet. “Why did you hold back so long?”
“I was … afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
I wasn’t good with words, but I needed to be now. I needed to express to him why I had such a mental block around developing feelings for him. “Afraid I’d have to leave again. I didn’t want to risk a painful goodbye. My life has been so full of them. But …” I took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “I’m done with running away. You’re worth the risk.”
“The risk of what?”
“A broken heart.”
He looked at me with round eyes, quiet and searching, like he hadn’t expected that answer. His fingers clenched in mine and I squeezed back, leaned in to kiss him, but he spooked away.
His magic flared. I tasted silver. Not on his lips, which broke from the kiss in shock, but in the current between us. The air cooled like a storm coming off the back of a heat wave.
I had to squint to look at him because the stars on his cheeks and in his eyes flared with light.
“What’s happening?” he said. “I feel … strange.”
I was about to say I didn’t know, when the flare of magic and the taste in the air changed into something dreadfully familiar.
