19. Bat #3
Ah. I had been wondering if he was ever going to give me shit for that. I’d been doing such an impressive job of keeping quiet while I wanked alongside him, next to the bath, but then that moan slipped out of me…
“I couldn’t resist joining in,” I admitted, pressing a kiss to his hip bone. “You just looked so fucking hot touching yourself.”
“‘Joining in,’” Charlie repeated, his voice pitched higher. “You tweaked my nipple!”
I flashed him my most wolfish grin. “You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”
“That’s not how consent works, Bat.”
“Then I’ll have to make it up to you somehow.” I crawled up his body until we were face to face again, until I was staring into his baby-blue eyes, his pupils blown wide. “Please, Charlie, may I tweak your nipple?”
“I… I suppose so,” Charlie breathed, and I rolled the peaked flesh between my fingers until he gasped. I traced over his ribs to find the other one, squeezing it even harder until a tiny scream left his lips.
“And please may I do this?” I whispered against his throat.
“Do what—” His question cut off in a moan as I sucked his earlobe into my mouth, my hips grinding down against his, hard.
“Oh! Fuck—”
“And now, please may I suck your dick?” I asked, already kissing my way down his chest.
Charlie’s nod was very enthusiastic for that particular request.
I wanted to make it perfect for him.
I may be sorely out of practice, but I’d loved giving head when I was alive. Prided myself on my skills, in fact.
I started slow. Kissed the tip, barely a brush of lips, then traced lower to mouth at the underside of his shaft.
Charlie’s hips twitched. His breathing stuttered.
I flattened my tongue and licked a long stripe from base to tip, dragging it out, savouring the warmth radiating from his skin.
The faint salt-musk scent of him. The way his thighs trembled on either side of my shoulders.
“Bat,” he breathed, his voice cracking around my name.
I looked up at him through my fringe, holding his gaze as I took just the head into my mouth.
Sucked gently. His cock twitched against my tongue, and fuck—the weight of it, the thickness, the heat radiating through every point of contact.
I had no sense of taste anymore, but this?
The solid presence of him, the way he pulsed with life?
God, that was everything. I wanted more. Wanted all of him.
I sank down slowly, inch by inch, letting him feel every second of me closing around him. His hand found my hair, fingers tangling but not pulling. Not yet. Just holding on like he needed something solid to anchor himself.
When I reached halfway, I pulled back, tongue working against the underside as I went. Then down again, deeper this time, pushing past the point where most people would gag. But I didn’t have to breathe. Didn’t even have that pesky reflex anymore, apparently.
A silver lining indeed.
Charlie’s moan was low and broken, his hips bucking up despite his obvious attempt at restraint.
I pulled off with a pop, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his cock. Thank god my mouth was still capable of that wetness, else this would be a tragically dry experience for Charlie.
“You can move,” I told him. “I won’t break.”
“Are you—are you sure?”
Instead of answering, I took him deep again, all the way down until my nose pressed against the soft hair at his base. Held there. Let him feel how completely I could take him, how there was nothing stopping him from fucking my throat if he wanted to.
His fingers tightened in my hair. “Oh my god. Oh fuck. Bat—”
I hummed around him, the vibration making his whole body shudder.
Then I started moving properly. Long, slow pulls that dragged my tongue against every sensitive ridge and vein.
Faster strokes that had obscene wet sounds filling the room.
I hollowed my cheeks, sucking hard on the upstroke, then relaxed my throat to take him deep again.
Charlie’s thighs started shaking, his breathing ragged. One hand stayed fisted in my hair while the other gripped the threadbare sheets beneath him. His hips rocked up in time with my movements, shallow thrusts that grew less restrained with every passing second.
“Fuck, that’s—you’re—” He couldn’t seem to finish a sentence. And I couldn’t help feeling smug about that.
I reached up with one hand, found his hip, squeezed—a silent encouragement. Go on. Use me. Please. I want it.
He got the message. His next thrust was harder, more deliberate, driving his cock deep into my throat. I took it easily, relaxed into the rhythm as he started properly fucking my mouth. The wet slide of him, his heat, the desperate little sounds spilling from his lips—the best sort of music.
My own cock throbbed where it pressed against the mattress, but I didn’t dare touch myself. Not after last night’s embarrassing finale. Not when I wanted so badly to be inside him.
I pulled off him, my hand wrapping around his slick length. “One final request. Please may I fuck you senseless until you’re screaming my name?”
“Oh my—fuck—yes! Please! Right now! Do it!”