Chapter 15 Kit #2
“Oh.” Quin ran his fingers through his beard. “I was going to call you ‘baby boy’. I get it if it’s too much too soon, or you’re not into it. It’s fine. I can—” Quin cut off when Kit scraped his fangs down his neck.
“That’s fucking hot, Daddy,” Kit said, testing how the word felt in his mouth. Everything slotted into place at that moment, as if until that point they’d been ever so slightly out-of-sync, and that using the title had finally moved the dial in the right direction.
“Shit, baby,” Quin said.
Kit felt Quin’s growing hardness through his clothing.
He wanted to experience it in an equal state of undress, so slithered off of Quin’s lap and onto the floor.
Quin opened his mouth to say something, but Kit silenced him by shrugging off one shirt and then the other.
He steadied himself and then pulled down the zipper on his jeans.
Kit wasn’t sure if he regretted dressing how he did for the date.
It was likely that they’d end up in this position, but the reality of getting undressed in front of someone else was different from how it played out in his mind.
He closed his eyes as he shimmied out of his jeans, knowing that Quin could see what he had on underneath.
“Whoa,” Quin said.
Kit peeked his eyes open. Quin was staring. It took all his fortitude not to squirm under the intense gaze. “Do you like them?” he asked.
“That would be an understatement,” Quin said. “You look incredible in them, baby boy.”
Kit put a tentative finger to the waistband of the form-fitting, barely there briefs as heat travelled through his body at Quin’s praise. The briefs were so tight that he couldn’t hide his growing arousal, his cock stretching the baby-blue material.
“Are you going to take them off?” Quin asked. “If I get a vote, I’m gonna tell you to keep them on for now.”
Kit pulled his bottom lip into his mouth before tiptoeing over to the bed, lingering at the edge.
Quin drew Kit to stand between his spread legs. Kit couldn’t tear his eyes away from the naked lust in Quin’s expression. Knowing that Quin desired him like this was beyond what he’d hoped for.
Quin reached up and placed gentle hands on Kit’s face, bringing it down so they were face-to-face.
Quin’s mouth covered Kit’s own, his tongue sweeping inside like it belonged there.
Kit buried his fingers in Quin’s hair, keeping him right there.
With his other hand, he grasped Quin’s shoulder, worried his knees might give out from under him if he wasn’t holding on.
The last few times they’d kissed were nothing like this.
The others had been hot and consuming and earth-shattering in their own ways, but this kiss was a prelude to something more.
Each meeting of their lips spelled out a possibility of where else Kit and Quin might touch, their caressing tongues whispering endless, unfulfilled promises.
Kit wanted Quin to deliver on everything his kisses were saying, but a part of him still feared what came next, and if Kit would act correctly and not freak out at their first real intimacy.
Quin broke the kiss. “Relax, Kit,” he said. He placed a tentative hand on Kit’s cheek, thumb rubbing over his lips, which buzzed from the rasp of Quin’s beard.
“I’m trying.”
Quin gazed at him with soft affection. “I know, baby. I’ve got an idea. Stay here. I’ll be back in a second.”
Kit felt unmoored as he stood alone in Quin’s bedroom. The room was large, but also didn’t seem big enough to contain everything that ran through his mind. He glanced at the door, wondering if he should make a run for it. He’d be gone before Quin realised.
But Kit’s chest ached at the prospect of leaving. He wouldn’t do it, even to make it all easier on himself.
Quin came back into the room with a large towel in his hands, which he laid down on the bed. “Got to save the duvet,” he said.
Kit looked balefully at the towel. He’d wanted the soft sheets under him. The towel made the whole thing…dirty. Like it was something to be covered up and hidden.
“Go lie face down on top of it,” Quin urged.
Kit hid his disappointment. He tried for grace as he settled himself.
This was not helping him relax. He already felt flayed open with vulnerability, and turning his back on Quin only compounded it. At least the towel was plusher than he’d expected. The mattress was firm under him, and the pillow was of the sort that you could sink your face into.
But Kit didn’t do that. He turned his head to watch Quin root around in the nightstand, pulling out a little glass bottle. Kit assumed it was lube, but when Quin removed the top, it came off with a dropper attached to the lid. The subtle smell of vanilla and jasmine filled the air.
“What’s that?” Kit asked.
Quin gave him a satisfied smile. “Oil. For a massage.”
Kit had never had one before. He didn’t bother to voice that fact, as he was pretty sure Quin would have guessed. “Are you any good at them?” he asked instead.
“I’ve been told my big hands are decent for this, at the very least,” Quin said. “Plus, I watched a few YouTube videos on how to do them. And we both know that YouTube would never lie to me.”
Kit pressed his smiling mouth into the pillow. The mere suggestion of a massage had relaxed him. “I suppose I can suffer through it.”
Quin huffed in indignation, pulling his boxers on again. “Just so you know, the best position for me is to be on top of you.”
“You’ll squish me,” Kit complained.
“I will do no such thing!”
Quin got on the bed, shuffling forward and throwing one leg on either side of Kit’s hips.
Quin stayed aloft, but Kit sensed his almost naked body on top of his bare back.
He was glad he’d kept the briefs on for now, even if they were getting snug.
If it had been Kit’s bare arse that Quin was resting on, he might have combusted then and there.
Kit yelped when Quin dripped the cold oil onto his back without warning.
“Shit, sorry, baby boy. Two seconds.” There was a clink as Quin put the bottle down, and then his warm hands returned, spreading the oil over Kit’s back.
He refused to groan at the sensation, but Kit had never been touched like this before. It was a revelation. He enjoyed it purely for what it was. Quin’s hands were firm where he wanted them and soft when he needed it, like Quin’s intuition was guiding him to giving Kit what his body required.
Quin’s thumbs dug into Kit’s shoulders, kneading at the knots. “You’re so tense.”
“Qu—Daddy, that’s so fucking good,” Kit moaned as Quin hit a satisfying spot. It skirted the edge of pain, but it was a type that Kit didn’t mind.
“Christ, Kit, I’m gonna lose control if you call me that,” Quin said gruffly.
“Call you what? Daddy?”
Quin thrust against Kit’s lower back. “Such a naughty boy.”
Kit bit into the pillowcase, then winced. His fangs had torn a hole right through it. He lifted his head, spitting the fabric from his mouth. “Uh oh,” he said, turning to look at Quin.
Quin laughed, and the vibrations travelled through Kit’s entire body.
“I’ll get you a replacement,” Kit said.
“It’s fine. I have plenty.” Quin resumed his massage, his hands touching every inch of Kit’s back.
Whilst it was difficult for Kit to fall asleep during the night, he started to nod off as he melted into a puddle of goo on the bed, lulled by the steady cadence of Quin’s breaths.
The touches soothed him like little else in life had.
Quin’s firm hands were the true revelation as they worked Kit’s weary muscles.
But then Quin’s hands reached lower as he moved himself back, sitting over Kit’s thighs. Quin’s hands skimmed over Kit’s arse, spanning the entirety of Kit’s butt cheeks. It woke Kit’s body up, and he thrust helplessly into the mattress.
“You’re humping the bed there, baby boy,” Quin remarked.
Kit wanted to retort, to tell Quin off for such an obscene observation. Instead, he just spread his legs, rubbing against the towel.
“How do you feel about me touching you here?” Quin asked, putting a firm hand over Kit’s arse.
Kit squirmed. Words were too hard. He pushed back into Quin’s hand, making his feelings known.
“What about here?” Quin asked again, skimming a finger down Kit’s crease. The briefs were so tight that it felt like Quin was touching his bare skin.
“Off,” Kit said.
Quin sprung back and onto the floor. “Sorry, Kit, I didn’t mean to—” Quin broke off when Kit pushed his briefs down his legs.
“Want them off,” Kit mumbled. He looked at Quin’s boxers. “Those too.”
By the time Kit had kicked his underwear off the bed, Quin was naked. His cock was half-hard, his balls hanging full and heavy. Now that he got a second look, Kit wasn’t sure if Quin would fit after all.
“What are you thinking?” Quin asked.
Kit blinked up at him, then went back to staring meaningfully at Quin’s cock.
Quin followed his gaze, looking down at himself. “That’s not on the agenda, if that’s what you’re worrying about. We’re going to build up to it. Besides”—he resettled himself on the bed, this time closer to Kit’s feet—“tonight is all about you.”
If Kit was less selfish, he might have protested Quin’s words. But as it was, he let Quin pull him up onto his hands and knees with minimal grumbling. He would prefer to just lie there, but Quin apparently had something in mind.
Kit let out a little moan when Quin’s fingers brushed over his hole.
“Do you like this?” Quin said, a finger circling Kit’s pucker.
Kit wished Quin would stop asking so many questions. But voicing that complaint would mean speaking, so he kept silent and shifted on the bed, propping his arse higher into the air and giving it a wiggle.
Quin used both thumbs to pull Kit’s cheeks wider apart. There was part of Kit that thought he should be mortified that Quin saw him so exposed like this. But most of him was close to begging for Quin to touch him more.