Page 70 of Coyote

He squirmed when I kissed his chest, and I hushed him again. Against the knot of the burn I set my teeth lightly and felt his breath catch. Then I closed my lips around his left nipple and worked it with my tongue until he whined, dug his heel into the blanket, and pleaded, "John, please!"

"More or stop?" I said.

"More." His heel dug in again. "Más. Don't you dare stop."

His cock lay hard against his belly, already leaking a dark smear onto his stomach, and I hadn't touched him there yet.

By the time my lips reached his stomach, his hips were lifting off the blanket, trying to hurry me.

I put my hand flat below his navel and pressed him back down. "Easy. Let me take my time with you."

"I'm a patient man." He pushed up against my hand. "Not with you."

"I noticed." I kissed my way across his belly at my own speed until he quit trying to set one of his own.

He turned his face into the blanket and whined, biting down. I stopped and pulled the blanket free, offering my hand instead, and he clamped down on the meat under my pinky and held.

"There you go. Bite when you need. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

I bent and took his cock in my mouth, and he released his teeth to cry out.

"John!"

I pulled off him and worked lower instead, and when I took his balls into my mouth and rolled them on my tongue, his heel skidded on the blanket and both his hands went into my hair to hold me there. They drew up tight under my tongue. He wasn't going to last if I kept at it, so I quit.

"You'll get it," I said against him. "When I say."

He dropped his head back. "Fuck," he told the roof. "Fuck. Puta madre." Then nothing in either language.

I slicked my fingers and worked him open, taking longer than he wanted, because I knew exactly what I was asking his body to make room for. I stayed until the stretch quit making him tense and started making him push back onto my hand, and then I stayed past that, long past the point the swearing stopped being words. When I crooked my fingers, he came up off the blanket like I'd run a current through him, so I did it again, and again, until his hands were fisted white in the blanket and his cock was leaking a steady thread onto his belly and a tremor ran through his thighs that he couldn't stop.

Then I sat back against the shed wall and stretched the bad leg out, where the ribs could rest and nothing would land on the thigh, and held out my hand.

"Your ribs," he said.

"This is me minding them. Come here."

He scrambled up and swung a leg over me, sitting right in my lap. Then he reached for the bottle, slicked me with a quick fist, lined me up, and started down.

"Go slow," I told him, knowing full well he wasn't planning to listen.

But his body didn't give him any other choice. He sank down an inch, panting, and had to stop to wait. While he did, I put my lips against his chest and kissed along one of the old knife scars there.

He worked himself down in stages, stopping and starting, until he sat flush in my lap with his palms flat on my chest and his mouth open on nothing. I held him there, full and still, both of us sweating.

"Breathe in," I said.

He breathed in, and I felt him take it all the way down to where I was in him.

Then I lifted him up, and his eyes widened. When I pulled him back down onto my cock, his head fell back, his whole throat exposed, and the moan he let out ran straight through me. I bent forward and bit him there, right over his Adam's apple. I'd never bitten anybody in my life. He froze under my lips, and when I bit down harder, he grabbed the back of my head and held me there. Then I kept lifting and lowering him on my cock.

Sweat ran down his neck and under my lips. I brought his head down and kissed him, tasting salt and his own swearing, and he bit my bottom lip hard enough to make me quit. He groaned and reached to put his hand on his cock but stopped just short, putting his hands on me instead. His hand came up my chest, through the hair, and found a nipple, and he pinched it hard enough that my hips came off the boards under him.

His hair came down and stuck to his throat. "Faster." His nails dug into my chest. "And don't stop. Bite me. Mark me."

I nipped lightly at his throat. When I'd wanted it, biting him had been easy. Doing it because he told me to was harder.

"Harder." He fisted my hair. "You need to leave marks."