10. Peter Gets Kit On His Knees
10
Peter Gets Kit On His Knees
T his isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. I should be anywhere at all instead of here. If Baldwin knew…
No. I’m not thinking about what Baldwin would want or think or do for once in my life. This beautiful impossible man is looking at me like he’s drowning and I’m the only flotation device around. Kristoff wants—actually, I’m not sure what he wants, or why, but he seems to need whatever it is desperately.
“Make me,” he keeps saying, like he’s daring me, but it sounds more like pleading. Experimentally I hurt him by pinching one small, brown nipple and he looks at me like I’ve given him the keys to heaven. Not that they’d let him in, but they wouldn’t let me in, either.
He goads me over and over, pushing hard at me while I try to point out all the emergency exits on this flight. Kristoff doesn’t want to escape—he’s trying to go down in flames and aims to take me with him. I should step back. I should leave. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place.
I stay, though, for so many stupid but valid reasons. The wild, desperate look in Kristoff’s pale eyes. The way he stares at me like he’s trying to memorize my every last detail. Or maybe he’s trying unsuccessfully to develop pyrokinesis so he can set me on fire. It’s heavy, whatever it is. Thick and sticky like honey, drawing me nearer instead of pushing me away.
It doesn’t help one bit that he’s too fucking pretty with those sharp cheekbones and spooky eyes and tousled dark hair. His chest is bare, broad but lean, and completely smooth, like acres of golden silk I itch to run my hands over. Standing out are his nipples, drawn hard and tight since I barged in here. When I pulled at one, trying to snap him out of his fugue state, I—
No. That’s a lie. I pinched his nipple because I had no other choice. Besides, I don’t want Kristoff to turn off and turn away. I want him…
“Make me,” he says for the millionth time and it’s the last flake of snow that falls right before an avalanche.
“Make you do what?” I reach out and give his other nipple and even harder pinch. I’m just this side of drawing blood with my nails.
It’s nowhere near a caress—I have to be causing him pain—but you can’t tell that by looking at his face. Or his cock. Like his pretty nipples, it’s been hard and prominent since the moment I came into his home. I don’t know what he was doing before I got here, but nothing I’ve said or done has softened that monster just barely covered by smooth fabric that has to be silk.
Because of course Kristoff Minola sleeps in silk.
Just because I want to, I touch his hard cock through that silk. It feels even better than I thought it would. I move to cup Kristoff’s balls and have to lock my knees to keep from kneeling on the floor and taking them into my mouth. He must like what I’m doing, or at least not hate it, because his body responds eagerly to me. Even so, I can feel Kristoff’s need for more, so I slowly squeeze his balls until I’m not sure how he’s not screaming.
Holy fucking shit on wheels. Kristoff Minola likes pain. Scratch that, I think he loves it. He might even need it.
The same look of bliss I saw before falls over his features again and that’s it. There’s no going back. Fuck the keys to heaven—I have the key to Kristoff’s desire and I’m going to use the hell out of it. Because I can. Because I want to. Because it’s now something I need like water or air.
Kristoff—no, Kit, like this he’s only Kit—is mine to take and use and punish. The crazy part—the best part—is that he wants me to do it. All of it, and probably all kinds of kinky shit I haven’t even imagined. I’m pan and adventurous, but Kit is something else altogether.
“Anything,” Kit says, and at first I think he’s reading my mind then I realize he’s answering the question I just asked. What can I make him do?
Anything. Anything. Anything. That word ricochets through my brain tearing apart any last lingering doubts. Anything.
Absolutely anything. I can do that.
“Then get on your knees, Kit,” I say like I’m speaking to a lover, “and suck my cock.”
Miracles must be possible because he does. Gracefully, like he’s done it before. How many times, I wonder, have you knelt just like this for some other man?
I give myself a mental shake. I can’t be jealous. That’s insane.
Kit looks up at me, the need in his eyes so great it’s almost scary. His hands lift to the fly of my slacks then drop away. At first I think he’s having second thoughts, then I get it. He needs me to tell him what to do.
I undo my fly then reach inside my not-silk boxer briefs to bring out my cock. I’ve got only half a hard on because my cock has been hella confused for the past twenty minutes, but it’s catching up with that steel bar Kit’s been sporting since I got here pretty fast.
“Open your mouth.” Kit opens up and I rub the leaking head of my cock over his tongue. “Such a good boy. You deserve a present, so let me in.”
I thrust forward and hold his head in place until he begins to struggle then I let him pull back. He does, but not all the way. My cock is still inside the wet heat of his mouth and that, right there, is heaven. Before I can thrust inside him again, Kit grabs the backs of my thighs and pulls me closer so I slip down his throat again. Then he swallows around me and the only word for it is exquisite.
It’s the kind of pleasure you could die from and not care.
“God, this is good, so good, you suck cock so fucking good,” I babble, the words just vomiting out of me.
Kit makes a noise around my cock. Unfortunately, it sounds more annoyed than aroused, and at first I don’t know what’s got him all pissed off. He hasn’t stopped sucking my cock, but his enthusiasm has taken a nosedive.
I grab his hair and tug him sharply forward. “You don’t get to stop now,” I say. “I’m getting my cock sucked even if I have to skull fuck you.”
He makes another noise, but this one is pleased and greedy, like he’s sitting down to an anticipated meal, and I think I understand what he wants. Maybe what he needs.
“Take it,” I tell Kit, shoving myself deep into his throat over and over. “I wonder if you’ll be able to talk tomorrow. Guess what? I don’t care. Not my problem. You’re just—oh fuck, fuck, just like that, like… something to stick my cock in. Jesus. A toy.”
I groan and look down. Kit’s eyes are closed, and his hand is roughly stroking his own cock. Should I punish him for doing that without permission? I have no idea, and the thought is hazy and hard to pin down. All I feel is how close I am to coming and how hot the mouth enclosing me is. My nuts ache and I know I’m about to come.
“Take it,” I order. “Every last drop. God, fuck, just like that. Jesus. Fuck.” My world explodes and narrows down to just my cock in Kit’s mouth and my cum filling him up. “You swallow all that down, hear me? Don’t waste it.” The pleasure is almost too great, but maybe it’s just because it’s been too long since I had such an eager mouth sucking me off.
When it gets to be too much I pull away from Kit and have the pleasure of seeing him swipe his hand over his mouth then lick it clean. He even swipes up some that fell onto his floor and sucks it off his finger with obscene eagerness. He’s got the cleanest kitchen floor I’ve ever seen but there’s something so dirty in the act that my spent cock starts to revive.
“Lick me clean,” I say, and Kit obeys with slow, delicate thoroughness. By the time he’s done I’m ready to go again.
Kit, in contrast, sits back, licking his lips. His cock is soft and there is a dark stain on the silk where he came. I tap the area with the tip of my shoe. “Looks like you were bad, Kit. I didn’t say you could come, did I?”
He looks up at me, his eyes dreamy and far away, and says nothing. I pinch his right nipple hard and quick to get his attention. “Did I? Don’t make me repeat myself again.”
The pain seems to focus Kit, and he shakes his head at me. “No.” The sound is low and raspy.
“No, what?”
A flush spreads upward from his chest to his face then Kit manages to speak, “No, Sir.”
No, Sir. Holy shit but that is hot. I just graduated from college, for fuck’s sake. Sir isn’t a term I’ve ever associated with myself but damn, it feels good. I could hear Kit say it all day long. I should make that a rule. Speaking of rules, I need to address the spreading stain on his sleep pants. I bet they’re a bitch to get cum stains off of.
“And what happens when boys don’t obey?” I ask Kit softly, but with as much menace as I can.
I could drown in Kit’s wide eyes and have an overwhelming urge to kiss his pink lips. I think, though, that it would be like trying to pet a feral cat. I might get purrs, or I might get bitten. The idea fills me with more excitement than I’ve felt in a long time when it comes to sex. Kit is my toy. My new shiny thing to play with and potentially break.
“They get punished,” Kit rasps.
I nod at him. “That’s right. They get punished.”
“When?” The word is barely audible.
“When I feel like it,” I tell him cheerfully. I put my cock away inside my boxer briefs then pull my pants up and fasten them. Kit is still kneeling, so I tweak his nose just to see him scowl at me. It’s adorable. “When it’s time, you’ll know. Now get up and get some sleep. We both have work tomorrow.”
Kit rises and it’s not as graceful as his descent. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“I know!” I tell him. “I’ll see you at six. Don’t forget my coffee.” Then I saunter out of Kit’s kitchen, feeling like a million dollars. Screw that. A billion.
Just before I close the door I hear him say, “Asshole.”
It makes me grin wider. I have no idea what Kristoff intended when he started whatever that was tonight, but I know this won’t be a one-off. I will be fucking that tight, round ass of his, but before that, he’ll beg me to do it. On his knees.
Right where my Kit belongs.