He doesn’t look to be in all that much pain as he walks over to me, his arm snaking around my waist, before leading me to the restaurant.
Instead of sitting down at the booth, he pulls me toward the restroom.
“Uh… aren’t we going to eat?” I ask, suddenly realizing that I’m starving.
Now that he’s touching me again, the lump in my throat has eased, and I’m back to being hungry.
“I want you to treat my burns first,” he rumbles, closing the door behind us and locking it. “You said that as long as it wasn’t being treated, it was still burning my skin. Didn’t you?”
I snort. “Well, I don’t think it’s still burning after all this time.”
“Why don’t you look?”
He lifts me up and sits me down on the edge of the sink, then draws up to me, winding my legs around his waist.
“Go on,” he prompts.
Swallowing nervously, I unbutton his shirt, forgetting to breathe as I take in his tattooed chest once more.
Last night, I hadn’t had my glasses on, and besides, he’d pulled me onto his lap and held me to him, so I wouldn’t have been able to see much anyway.
Now, standing inches before him, I can see it all. Every part of his beautiful tattooed skin, an intricate design winding its way toward his shoulders and up his neck. The jagged scar is inches away from my face as he looks down at me, resting his forehead against mine in a way that feels even more tender than a kiss.
I can’t bring myself to ask him to stop. My mind has gone blank as I inhale his scent, his arms cradling me making me forget all about this morning.
“Go on,” he murmurs.
“Go… on?”
His mouth twitches into a small smile. “Treat my burn.”
It’s barely red, but I still dig out some cream and tentatively apply it to him. He huffs out a ragged breath as I keep going, smoothing my fingertips all over his chest, working the cream into his muscles.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper before I can help it.
I feel him smile in my ear. Then he breathes, “I want you.”
For once he doesn’t try to restrain me as I suddenly hop down from the sink. He merely looks at me with a puzzled air as I get down on my knees, before the confusion turns to pain.
“Not like that. I didn’t mean like that.”
“I want you too,” I admit. “Please let me. Please let me have your cock.”
I blush hard, but still bring hesitant hands to his fly. He doesn’t try to stop me as I unzip it. His cock springs free and I hungrily eye the bead of precum shining at its tip.
He moans softly as I open my mouth, licking it off before taking his entire length in my mouth.
He’s gotten me used to deepthroating it, what with all the times he’s held my face and fucked my mouth hard. Now, though, he lets me go at my own pace at first, and I take advantage of that, taking all of him in my mouth before licking down his shaft and sucking his tip softly.
I can tell my slow rhythm is having a tantalizing effect on him. After a while, forgetting himself, he grabs my face, wrapping a hand around my neck and squeezing it lightly as he drives his cock in and out of me.
I like it better this way anyway. I like it when he takes the lead.
I gasp, tears streaming down my cheeks as he pounds into me, forgetting everything but his own overwhelming need. Then I see his balls tighten, and his cum falls hotly over my face. He wipes it away with his fingers and shoves them into my mouth, and I dutifully suck down each drop.
Then he groans and takes a few steps back, panting, beforesuddenly crouching in front of me.
“Are you okay, cricket?”
