Page 63 of Beautiful Chaos
His words are filthy, but the Texas purr in them is warm as melted butter.
“Free use is a very specific term.”
“I know. That’s why I used it.”
There’s a neediness creasing the soft skin around his eyes, the nervy way he’s massaging my pecs, thumbing my nipples.
I’ve had lovers toss around that term. I like to think it’s because they know that kind of power is safe in my hands. With Silas, I think it’s a little bit of that, but maybe he’d also like a break from having to control every impulse.
I suppose the question, then, is whether I want that responsibility.
We step into the shower. “Clean me up,” I command softly. “Be thorough about it.”
He is.
His hands are strong, worshipful as he soaps my body. I ride the line between pecs and man titties pretty hard. Silas, it seems, lives for that line. Same with my belly. My thighs. Ass. Calves.
His searching fingers take care of the most delicate bits. Beneath my balls, my inner thighs, under my foreskin. The crack of my ass.
“Fuck, you’re hairy everywhere,” he whispers, swirling around my hole. “Will you let me worship you here?”
“Yes.”
Every command, every affirmation loosens the tension in his shoulders. Lightens the desperation in his fingertips.
“Now?”
I face the wall, bracing myself on my forearms, cocking my hip out. Having played every form of aggressive sport, I know the round ass is a draw. Men have worshipped it, as have a few women. But never as beautifully as Silas. The way he parts my cheeks, runs his nose up my crack, inhaling as if ambrosia. Thefirst few licks are tentative, then he moans and gives himself into the act.
I’m not quite ready to go again, but it feels good, him on his knees, servicing me simply for the joy of servicing me. I could keep him in that position, letting this freshly devirginized man eat me until his tongue seizes and he begs me for more.
My first request, though, is top of mind. I reach back and palm the back of his head, pushing him farther between my cheeks for a few precious seconds before drawing him away.
I turn, stroking my thick cock.
“Warm it for me.” Remembering who I’m talking to, I explain, “That means you just hold it in your mouth. No sucking.”
“I know what cock warming is.”
The way his hands land on my thighs is delicate. The way he looks at my cock is everything. He first kisses the head, a gentle suck, a swipe of his tongue under the foreskin.
“Silas…”
He pulls back, his expression sheepish.
How precious.
A sheepish monster.
“Warm it,” I repeat.
He pouts, biting his lower lip, nailing me with those pretty blue eyes.
I raise my brow, and his eyes swirl black. He complies, and even that feels dangerous. Holding my soft dick in his mouth, staring up at me with those black, black eyes.
“You can control the shift,” I realize out loud.
He winks, and when he opens that eye, it’s blue. The other is still black.
