I’m a patient man. Once, I waited in a disused floor of a factory for a month to shoot my target.
But Victor is testing me.
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been alone for four years, or if he’s just that unique, but I can’t get enough of him. It’s as though he’s awakened me from a long winter sleep, and all I want to do is paint him and fuck him.
When I see his leg twitching uncomfortably, I even regret that I shot him that first night, because he might have some permanent nerve damage.
“Fuck… fuck… yes…” Victor whines, arching his ass against my face, cheek flat to the table I bent him over.
He will be mine. He must be.
I groan at the earthiness of his flavor, and I give his ass a gentle slap before squeezing his neglected dick to milk it.
“Such a needy piggy,” I growl, then swirl my tongue around his hole before probing at it again and again. He’s so close, and while we’ve already come early this morning, I’m insatiable for this. We fuck like bunnies, and the only thing stopping us from going at it twenty-four/seven is our physical limits.
I’m obsessed with this pink pucker he won’t let me have. Today, I suggested I’d like to rim him later, just to gauge his reaction, and while he got beautifully flustered, he didn’t say no. Going by the extra time he spent in the shower, he might be ready for more as well. He’s a fragile thing though, despite his inner conflict over being aroused by humiliation, so I’ll wait and see if he asks for it himself.
Victor arches his freckle-stained back, legs spread, forehead dragging over the table. “God… I am, I think I am…”
His cock is throbbing in my hand, thighs trembling right next to my face, and I can sense his heartbeat on my tongue.
I slicken him with more of my saliva and roll my tongue up his buttock as my index finger slowly probes at theopening, asking for entrance. “Is it time to get spit-roasted?”
He’s ready. I know he is. Victor wants me, he’s a bit shy and needs coaxing. Which is actually kind of a turn on, because I love pushing.
He makes a needy little moan, so I press my finger into his spit-dripping hole. I can’t wait to stretch it open with my dick. It’s barely in, not even up to the knuckle when Victor comes. His tight hole grips my finger, making lust flood my whole body, and his cock throbs in my hand as it releases spunk in a generous helping. I’ll enjoy licking it off my fingers soon.
I’m so tempted. And when his hole twitches rhythmically on the tip of my digit, I imagine myself mounting him now, with our cold lunch on the same table he’s bent over. But he’s just finished, and I won’t be fucking him unless he’s desperate for me.
I slap his buttock, then the other, and squeeze them both hard as I close my eyes, trying to push down my own need.
I want to save some spunk for later. After all, nothing fuels my art like desire.
“You made such a mess,” I rasp and pull him up by the hair. My slick hand hovers close to his lips, and he sticks out his tongue, panting, overwhelmed, and so very pliant. He really does want nothing more than to be a good boy.
I have a taste, but then slide my fingers into his needy mouth and let him clean my hand. It’s so hot when he looks at me with that dazed expression. I’m the center of his universe now.
Once I pull back my hand, he whispers an adorable ‘thank you’, as if it wasn’t my pleasure to eat his freckled ass while he moaned and whimpered for me.
“Well then...” I lick my lips when our gazes meet, and when the flush on his cheeks darkens further, I guide himstraight into the comfortable wooden chair. “I think you should replenish.”
“Do you want me to…?” Victor glances down my body as he sits, but he’s learned by now that when I want something, I make it known.
I would, but there’s pleasure in longing, so I shake my head and pick up some cheese from the board between us. I sample the wine I poured for us earlier and smile at him, realizing that no afternoon before has felt quite like this.
I missed the company. Someone to talk art with. A beautiful body to touch. And, fuck, isn’t he even more beautiful with the warm glow shining down on us from above and bringing out coppery notes in his hair?
“I enjoy the wait. Now eat, we have lots of work ahead of us.”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice when I serve him delicious food. For someone with a body as slender as his, he does have a voracious appetite. Maybe I’m seeing him through a haze of infatuation, but his hair is more vibrant and shiny, his lips aren’t chapped and dry anymore, and while he’s beautifully pale, there’s a healthy glow to his skin now. He doesn’t complain when I scrub him in the bath, or apply lotion all over his body. I even got a special new set of shampoos and oils for his wavy hair.
It surprises me how much joy pampering him brings me, since apart from taking care of my mother, I’ve always been more focused on myself. Maybe it’s because he’s my muse, so the outcome of my efforts is still visible inmywork?
“What will you work on later? More studies?” Victor watches me with such keen interest in his green eyes. He has that freshly-fucked flush on his face. With the sky such a deep blue today, his hair is an especially vibrantorange, and I wonder whether painting plein air wouldn’t be a good choice for today.
I take a sip of wine and stretch in my chair. He twitches when I rest my heel on the edge of his seat, between his spread thighs, staking my claim on every bit of his personal space. And, oh, he fucking loves it. He massages my feet every day, pampering and kissing them while I watch the news. He lets me feed him and offers me fruit when I demand it from him.
I couldn’t have found such a perfect little freak on Craigslist.
