I can sense our connection. It’s in his eyes, in his touch, the electric current between us. We both want the same thing, and I’m not talking about sex. We want to be seen, and desired, and appreciated, and we can give that to each other wrapped in a bow.
“Your legs are open too,” he teases and kisses down my jaw as his fingers find my belt.
I chuckle, tightening my thighs around his body and bringing him close. “You clearly have a way with me.”
“I can’t wait to show you what else I can do.”
I gasp when he presses his cock to my crotch, andyes, it’s big. I love that he takes the lead, because I’m way out of my depth, but I still don’t expect it when he kneels while pulling down my pants in an expert move that leaves me flushed, cock bobbing right in front of his handsome face.
Tristan doesn’t waste time and licks the tip with a grin.
It’s like an electric charge, a vibrating touch that might just take me to heaven, and I caress his mane, resting one of my feet on his back as my hips stir. He’s still wearing his cuirass, and it gives a low clatter as my heel puts pressure on it.
“This is so good,” I groan, pressing my cheek to the wall, because I can’t control myself, even though we’ve only started.
“I want to hear you moan,” Tristan whispers, as his greedy fingers find my thighs and he takes more of my cock into the soft, wet heat of his mouth. Pure bliss. His hair is silky, his smoky scent is getting to me, and at this pace, I don’t know how long I’ll last, because my balls tighten every time Tristan bobs his head, lavishing me with the lush heat of his mouth.
I grab the edge of the desk, arching as he plays my cock like a delicate instrument. How can I stay quiet in this situation?
“Tristan,” I rasp, squeezing a few locks of hair at the back of his head. They feel like the softest pillow. “Tristan…” I repeat, because I already love saying his name.
He backs off and gives the underside of my throbbing cock a lick that sends shivers up my thighs. “You’re absolutely delicious,” he says and dives in to suck my balls too. If he really is fifty-something, he did not spend those years idly, because each stroke of his tongue has me gasping for air as I push my cock into his warm fist.
I might be sleepy, and exhausted by the amount of information I’ve been forced to take on, but I come alive under his touch, and very soon, I feel like I might be about to come.
“I’m… Tristan—”
Tristan pulls away, grabbing the base of my cock. “No,I’mTristan,” he says, dead serious.
For half a second, I just stare at him, but then burst with laughter so unexpectedly it almost makes me slide off the edge of the desk and collapse on top of him. But he’s back on his feet and takes me with him, my bare ass exposed to the air, and if he wanted he could have shoved me at the wall and had me right this moment.
I cling to him, breathlessly kissing those full lips as he carries me across the room. I shriek when it feels like we’re about to fall, but when my back meets the mattress, I stretch under him, so ready to have him on top.
“You are so handsome, oh my God…”
“And you’ve barely seen any of me,” he says with a self-satisfied smile as he straightens up, watching my disheveled self. I rise to my elbows as he opens the little buckles at the side of his cuirass. Is this fantasy-themed striptease? Because yes please.
I moan like a crazy person when Tristan pushes back his mane using a casual gesture with his forearm, but then the piece of armor drops, and I stare at the fine black shirt underneath. It’s embroidered with a series of patterns I want to know by heart.
Now that the urgent need to come is over, turned into dull, pulsing arousal, I can think more clearly and roll to my knees, reaching out to my knight. “Come here.”
“Yes? Will you help me?” He smiles and points to the straps on his chest holding his pauldrons in place.
I’ve had a few boyfriends and a healthy amount of sex with them, but there was always a stressful undercurrent of worry. About my body, about our relationship and how sex will influence it. With Tristan, this man I met yesterday, I’m already feeling more at ease than with any guy before him. He makes me laugh and feel relaxed, as if my pants aren’t pulled down to my knees. I kick them all the way off, staying in my socks and the shirt, and pull Tristan in by the thick belt embossed with a cornucopia of complex patterns.
“I will,” I promise him. But not yet. First, I need to be closer.
I pull up his shirt and push my face into the bunched fabric, until all I smell is the warm fragrance of herbs and the sea, and my tongue finds his toned stomach. It’s so addictive I’m already feeling faint, but that won’t stop me, and I shamelessly explore the skin over his ribs, all the way to the pec.
“Oh yes, just like that,” he mumbles, and the excitement in his voice makes my cock twitch. I want to please him. He grabs the back of my head through the shirt and presses my face against his body. He’s so meaty. I can’t get enough. Whatever he’s doing with those boulders in pastures, it’s doing wonders for his physique.
This hunger shouldn’t be new, but it is, and as I suck on his flesh, digging my fingers into skin, he cradles me close until I’m stuck on the crossroads of absolute peace and raging arousal.
I flinch, stunned by the unnatural movement on his skin, but my heart calms at the sight of the eels creeping closer to my face. It’s so hard to accept that Tristan has tattoos which move over his skin like living creatures, but they’re there, pushing their faceless heads at the sliver of saliva left by my kisses. The damp smudge adds dimension to their slithering forms, making their scales shimmer like the ocean in bright moonlight.
I see beauty in those strange creatures, and they seem just as fascinated by me.
There is no grand inspiration behind the kiss I press to one of the heads, but as it throbs under my touch, vibrating when Tristan gasps, I lick my way along the first eel, and then another.
