He grips my shoulders, his wet fingers slipping on my skin, digging into my muscles, leaving his own marks. One second he’s pushing me away, the next he’s trying to hold me closer, scratching lines on my back in response to the multitude of teeth-shaped bruises I’m leaving on his shoulders and neck.
“Oh fuck, ouch,” he hisses when I leave a particularly deep one, and I kiss it softly in apology. Then I fall to my knees and yank his pants down with me. I bite his hip, rip one of his legs out of his soaking pants and lift it up onto my shoulder to sink my teeth into his thigh. His gasp for that one is high-pitched and needy, his fingers tangling in my hair, his eyes wide.
“Listen to me,” I say, my voice so rough I barely recognize it. “I need you.”
“No one needs this mess–ouch! Fucker,” he complains when I bite his thigh again.
“I need you, Tommy,” I repeat. “I have no other words. Ineedyou. Even that word isn’t enough, not truly. I more than need you. I more than want you. I-I don’t know how else to say it.”
My chest burns, my throat burns–frustration, helplessness. Feelings I never thought I’d be able to name. They taste bitter.
“I don’t know how to say it,” I repeat.
“I love you,” he says hoarsely, the words slipping out of him.
“I love you,” I repeat, thinking at first that he’s telling me the words I should be using, coaching me through it. But the way his eyes widen, his expression blown open into something fearful, makes me realize–
“You love me,” I say, mystified.
“You–you love… me too?” He says back, unsure and insecure.
“I… I do,” I agree thoughtfully. “I must. There’s no other feeling this could be, is there? I need you. I have to have you. I want you more than anyone else. I love you.”
And now that I’ve named it, that burning, bitter taste disappears. How thrilling, how exciting is this? Electricity sizzles from my skin to my bones, static races across my nerve endings. I love him. I love him.
And he loves me.
I bite his thigh again, hard enough to leave a mark. He groans, but takes it, panting harshly.
“P-prove it,” he dares, shaky and spooked, like he’ll run away now if I don’tmakehim believe it.
I tear his clothes off, turn him around, and sink my teeth into the meaty part of his ass. He hisses at the ache, cussing but holding still because this is exactly what he wants.
“Proof is something I can do.”
“Are you gonna bite me instead of spank me?” he teases weakly, his fingers clawing at the brick as he leans forward, giving me what I want.
“Maybe a little. You look good with my teeth on you.” My fingers trace the imprint left behind on his ass, and my dick gets hard because ‘good’ is not nearly enough to describe how sexy he looks with my mark on his skin.
Good enough that I don’t think I can wait. I stand, running my hands up his sides, sending shivers dancing down his spine. He’s so wild, so untamed and submissive at the same time. Knuckles bloody, but naked in a storm because I want him to be. I spin him, lean him back against the brick, grip his chin in my hand and loom over him.
“I want to fuck you.” The words come out before I can stop them. “Ineedto fuck you, right now.”
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Why is this so hot? Why is everything you do so hot?”
I pause, and something inside my chest loosens, relaxes. I didn’t realize I was expecting rejection until I got acceptance.
“So,” I murmur. “You–” I clear my throat, unfamiliar with the physical sensations of whatever emotion makes me feel like I’m choking. “Liked it?”
“Hm?” He blinks up at me, nuzzling his cheek into my palm. His expression clears as he understands, and then he does the last thing I expect. He bursts into a bout of high-pitched laughter and grabs my ripped-open shirtfront to keep me close.
“You’re asking if I liked you fucking me so good I nearly blacked out?” he checks. “If I liked it when you made me cum until I cried? You want to know if I likedthat?”
I grip his chin in my fingers and match his giggles with a huff of amusement, the thunder drowning out the sound. “It’s a yes or no question, Tommy.”
“Yes, Daddy,” he whispers hoarsely. “I-I liked it. Did…did you?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “More than anything.”
