Page 54 of Square to the Puck
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” I pant, noting that I’m once again slicked with sweat. Nigel chuckles, tongue still inside me, and the vibrations have me biting my lip hard enough that I almost break the skin.
My dick is lying heavy and throbbing on my stomach, leaking precum. I consider using a hand on myself to try and relieve some of the pressure, but I can’t seem to get my fingers to unclench. Nigel is alternating between fucking me with his tongue, and using the tip to trace shapes around my hole; I’m almost certain he’s writing the alphabet on me.
He’s stroking the pad of a finger over my taint while he works his tongue deeper inside me. Breathing hard, I reach a hand down between my legs until I feel Nigel’s silky hair. The moment my fingers touch him he groans, low and deep; the noise, against my ass, has me trying to arch my hips once more. This time he lets me, tongue sliding slowly out of me. He doesn’t go far, but licks one long line up to my dick before bending his head and taking me deep into his throat.
I come almost immediately; gasping, I struggle not to rock my hips as Nigel hollows his cheeks and sucks. I’ve still got a hand on his head, so I stroke my fingers gently through his hair, a silent apology for not warning him before I came. When he lifts his head, there is a dribble of cum at the corner of his mouth; he licks it away. One hand braced against my thigh, he grasps the pillow with the other.
“Lift back up.” He tells me, quietly. I’ve barely raised my hips before he slides the pillow out from under me and tosses it toward the head of the bed. I wonder if he’s going to follow it and lay down beside me.
“You could come up here.” I offer, patting my chest. I want him on top of me like he was earlier.
My knees bump against his hips as he crawls up toward me. I wait for him to get settled, fully on top of me, before lowering my legs back to the bed and wrapping one arm around his waist. I slide the other back into his hair and smile, pleased.
“Can you breathe?” Nigel asks, cheek against my pec.
“Yes.” It’s true, although my breathing is shallow. I like the way he feels, though, all that bare skin pressed against my own. I wouldn’t ask him to move even if I was seconds away from suffocating. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you, before I came.”
Nigel huffs, warm breath coasting over my sternum. “You don’t have to warn me. I would have stayed where I was if I hadn’t wanted you to come in my mouth.”
Jesus. I try to adjust my hips, with one of Nigel’s legs thrown over mine. “Oh. I thought it was good etiquette, just in case.”
“Well, it is.” He agrees. I can feel his mouth pull back into a smile. “But not necessary with me. I could tell you were there, anyway.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He turns his head and kisses the center of my chest. One of his hands comes up to trace over my shoulder and down my arm. The touch is so light, it tickles. “Was that okay, then? Or is rimming not for you?”
I think about it, squinting up at the ceiling. “Well, it felt good. Really good. I feel like I should say thank you.”
Nigel chuckles. “Not necessary, but you’re welcome.”
“Should I…do that sometime? On you?” My heart flutters nervously at the thought. I’ve always considered sex to be somewhat transactional: give a blowjob, receive a blow job, you come, I come. But rimming? I don’t want to do that—Ireallydon’t want to do that—although I think I could force myself through it if he asked me to.
“No, of course not.” Nigel’s low voice interrupts my rapidly spiraling thoughts.
“No?” I can’t help the relief that seeps into my tone. He lifts his head to look at me. This close, his eyes are the color of milk chocolate.
“Corwin, mon chéri, I think we both know you would not enjoy doing that.” He taps a finger on my collarbone.
“But…is that something you’d miss if I didn’t do it?” I don’t know why I didn’t just take the out he offered me. He’s right. I don’t think I’d enjoy it either. But he had told me earlier that it felt good, which means he’d been on the receiving end at some point. What if being rimmed is his favorite thing in bed? What if, by not doing it, he won’t be satisfied? He cocks his head to the side, surveying me. Sighing, he pushes himself up so that his face is square to mine.
“What are we really talking about, here?” He asks.
“You cater to me—no, it’s true and you know it—you cater to me in bed because I have no idea what I’m doing or what I like. But youdoknow what you like. It’s not fair, Nigel, for everything to be about me.”
“Yes,” he deadpans, “everything was about you last night when we had sex, and today when you gave me a blowjob. It’s very difficult to live like this, but I am making it work.”
I huff an exasperated breath as well as I can with him compressing my ribcage. He raises both eyebrows at me. “Do you like to bottom?”
“What?” He asks, thrown by the seemingly random question.
“Do you like to bottom?” I repeat, carefully watching his face. “You brought up last night; I want to know if you like being fucked or if you prefer to do the fucking.”
He stares at me. “Yes, I like to bottom.”
“Let me sit up.” I wrap a hand over his shoulder and nudge him back. He sits back on his heels and I slide up until my back is resting against the headboard. Nigel scoots forward, closer to me, and rests a forearm on his elevated knee. With him sitting like that, I can’t help but look down at his dick.Talk about distracting. “I don’t think I want to top. And I definitely don’t want to rim.”
“I didn’t ask you to do either of those things.” He reminds me.