Page 92 of Naughty November
I write ‘cherished’ in orange beneath ‘treasured’ and then pause and hold his gaze. “What do you want me to do to you?”
“Kiss me.”
I write it in yellow opposite ‘MINE’ and then reward him with a peck on the lips.
“Hold me.”
I write the phrase in red beside ‘beautiful’ on his chest. Once I’m sure the ink is dry, I lay beside him, holding him until his skin blooms white beneath the letters.
“Squeeze me.”
I smirk, sit, and write it in tiny orange letters around his left nipple. When I’m done, I pinch and roll it between my thumb and forefinger. He gasps, moans, and arches his back. His lashes flutter. His reaction is adorable. I write that in yellow on his right arm and then pause, tapping the pen against my lips to show him I want another statement from him—another request.
“Fuck me,” he whispers.
I lay between his legs and write his plea around his pretty hole in orange. “Later.”
He whimpers and pouts.
I swipe my thumb over his lips to rub the pout away. “I thought you were a good boy?”
“I am.”
“Just needy?”
“For you? Always.”
I write ‘needy for Devin’ over his heart in red and then give his cock a single, loving stroke. “Who does this belong to?”
“You.”
He squeaks and moans as my name goes along the length of his cock in orange. I write ‘talented’ in large, looping letters down his left leg. I’m still in awe of his skill with languages and how he turned that into a career that lights up his eyes whenever he talks about it.
“I’m going to write faster now. Tell me if it’s too much.”
He nods, his needy stare still fixed on me. I hold all three pens so its easier to switch between them and begin to write, filling up the gaps between the words and phrases I’ve already decorated him with, alternating colours so I’m turning his skin into a tapestry of red, orange, and yellow. ‘I believe in you’, because I always have and can’t imagine a time when I won’t. ‘I need you’. So, so much. ‘I’m so happy you’re here’. I doubt I could convey exactly how happy.
The more I write, the more he wriggles and whimpers. I keep a close eye on him, relieved to see no flicker of pain on his face. He’s completely relaxed now despite his inability to keep still. I remember the words he uses to describe how it feels when his skin reacts. Tingling. Buzzing. It’s hard to imagine. Is it turning him on? From the way his cock is leaking, it must be. I pause every now and then to lick the precum from his slit and kiss him. He moans into my mouth and licks his precum from the tip of my tongue as though it’s the nectar of the gods.
I use the toothpick on his hands, covering them front and back with words of love and affirmation. ‘Kind’, ‘thoughtful’, ‘amazing’, ‘inspiring’, ‘gorgeous’, ‘considerate’.
I fill his legs with longer phrases, sometimes using pens, other times toothpicks to create a more ephemeral effect. ‘I love your smile’. ‘Your laugh is beautiful’. ‘Your eyes are stunning’. I say every word and phrase out loud, so he knows what’s being recorded on his skin. So he knows how I think and feel about him.
“Devin!” His eyes are closed now, his breath a series of light moans and pants.
I find space on his stomach for ‘I never want to lose you again’ anddown his ribs for ‘I’ll always be here for you’. Then, I pause, hand hovering over him, unsure if I dare write the words in my heart.
He opens his eyes, the intense blue of his irises honing in on me. “Devin?”
I cup his cheek and peck his lips. “I’m okay. Are you?”
“Yes. I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life. I need you, Devin. Please.Pleasemake love to me.”
A damp spot forms on my underwear, where the head of my cock presses against the fabric. It cools instantly. Oh, fuck, I need him. I work hard to retain my cool exterior.
I arch an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” That’s what’s written around his hole, after all.
He whimpers and strains against the restraints. “Make love to me. Fuck me. I don’t care which. I need you.” His voice disintegrates into a desperate whine.