The look in his eyes excited me. He leaned in close and for a moment I thought he was going to steal another kiss, but at the last minute he dropped into my lap, his mouth closing around the tip of my dick. I couldn’t feel those sharp teeth of his now—he had his lips tucked over them, and that soft tongue licked down my length like it was candy. He took me completely in, bobbing between my legs until I felt the sideburns on either side of his head tickle my thighs. I leaned back, raised my legs a little, and thrust into his hot, willing mouth. “Yes!”
He came up, lips massaging my shaft, letting me slip free. When he reached my tender cockhead, he paused to kiss it, almost sucking, as he tongued the slit splitting the spongy tip. I gripped the sides of the chair and bucked into him, wanting more, needing release. “Fuck,” I muttered, watching him watch me, my dick caught between his lips. A slight pressure pulsed at the base of my glans, as if he were very gently chewing on me. I felt a spurt of pre-cum and struggled to rein in my desire. “Please, God.”
My juice bubbled from his lips as he let me go. With one last lick, he took the condom from my limp hand and tore into the wrapper with teeth that glistened wetly in the overhead light. “God’s not here at the moment,” he purred, unrolling the rubber down my shaft. “Tonight you’re all mine.”
Reaching over beside my chair, he pulled his tray of supplies closer. Before I could ask what he was doing, he grabbed a jar of A&D ointment, unscrewed the cap, and scooped out a handful of clear lubricant. He coated the condom with it, working down and around the length of my cock, then motioned for me to come closer. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but when I held out my hands he smeared first one, then the other, with the goo. Setting the jar back on the tray, he nudged my foot aside where it sat on the foot rest. “Let me step up.”
My feet spread, allowing him to stand on the chair. It lurched beneath his sudden weight, then sank back into position when he climbed into my lap. With his knees on either side of my thighs he knelt before me, dick swaying in my face. I leaned forward, tongue outreached, and found the cold metal piercing underneath his dick. Just thinking about it made me shiver, but my tongue toyed with it, curling to stick into the ring, then flattening the metal against Rist’s skin.
“Fuck me,” he growled.
I needed no further prompting, but he took both my hands in his and guided them to his ass as he thrust into my mouth. My fingers eased into the crack between his buttocks and I spread the slick lubricant down hidden skin, seeking entry. When I found it, my forefinger wriggled inside, turning in a widening circle as I loosened him. His cock butted against my lips and he gripped the chair behind my head as he rocked back into my hands. His breath came in harsh gasps above me. When I finally managed to catch his jittery dick in my mouth, he sighed and pushed his length fully into me as he pounded the chair with one fist. “Yes! Yes!”
The chair squealed dangerously beneath us. I pulled him toward me, closing the distance that separated us, until his legs were splayed as far as they could go and I had to stoop down to keep sucking his cock. Blindly I grasped my own hard dick and held it with one hand as I spread him wide with the other. His dick slid from between my lips with a wet sound lost amid the music and moans. Trailing saliva-slicked kisses up his abdomen, over the cloud of bats, I traced his navel with my tongue and told him, “Sit.”
As he did, I guided myself into him. My fingers squeezed the head of my cock as I worked it into his tight anus, while the fingers on my other hand held him wide. Inch by inch I eased inside, past the first band of constricting muscle, my dick beating in time with the music and my heart. He caught my face in both hands and raised it toward his, mouth covering mine as he slowly sank down onto my hard cock. I thrust up, my hands under his buttocks as I pulled him close, his dick between us bumping my navel and leaving a trail of damp jizum behind. “Yes,” he moaned into me, sucking on my bottom lip. When he leaned back a little and looked into my eyes, I felt that stare deep in the pit of my stomach, and his lips were once again red and wet. His words were nothing but sighs, full of longing and desire, full of want. For me. “Tommy, yes. Yes! Uh uh uh.”
Each time he made that sound, he rocked above me and my cock shuddered within his tight ass. His weight ground my balls into my thighs as he moved his hips against my groin. When he leaned back, I supported him with both hands, thinking he wanted a different angle. His sphincter clenched around my cock, working me toward release. With his body exposed to me, I nipped at one nipple playfully, then kissed my way down his chest one bat at a time. Faint drops of red left bloody imprints behind. He’d bitten me again.
Then he placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I sat back against the chair, my hips making tiny little thrusts as I fucked into him. With hooded eyes he grinned at me, his tongue licking his upper lip as if drinking away the taste I had left behind. “About where do you want that tat?” he asked.
I ignored him and closed my eyes, giving into the sensations—the heat of his body around my dick, the weight of him in my lap. I don’t chat during sex. Another few minutes and we could pick up where we’d left off with the ink…after I came.
Rist had other plans. He pinched my nipple to get my attention, twisting the tender bud. The pain shot from my chest straight to my rigid dick and I gasped his name. “Here?” he asked, pointing above my left breast. “This a good spot for you?”
“Yeah, sure,” I sighed. I picked up the pace, really thrusting into him as hard as I could. He rose in my lap like a boat on rough waves. “Wherever. Just let me…”
Finish, I wanted to say, but I didn’t get the chance. With an impossible strength, he clamped his knees against my thighs, stilling me. I froze in mid-thrust, my dick held prisoner in the clenched muscles of his ass. I glanced at his enigmatic grin and wondered why we had stopped. “What?”
“Here?” he asked again, pointing to a spot just over my left nipple.
Confused, I nodded a little. Catching his dick in my hand, I massaged his length as if to entice him to get back where we had been two seconds ago. My thumb rubbed up the underside of his shaft, toying with his piercing each time I bumped against it. “Yeah, that’s good. I thought we were sort of in the middle of something here. Can’t this wait? I’m almost done.”
Rubbing my sore tit, he squeezed his knees into my thighs. With an arched look, he laughed. “No, we’re not. We’re just getting started.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that—myself, I was so close to coming, I could feel my balls drawing up in anticipation of shooting my load. But once again I was surprised by his strength. He made it impossible for me to move my hips up, down, or sideways. His legs and ass had me pinned in place. I felt like a drop of water beading on the end of a leaky faucet, filling with fluid, waiting for the moment when I could fall. “Please,” I sighed, tugging on his dick. “I need this.”
“We’ll get there,” he assured me. Then he leaned behind him and snagged his tray of tattoo supplies. As it rolled closer, I watched him reach for the jar of lube again. Maybe my hands were a little dry and he wanted to slather them so I could jerk him off as I came. Sounded good to me.
But instead of the A&D ointment, he picked up the tattoo gun instead. With a flick of his thumb, the machine buzzed to life in his hands. I felt its vibrations through his body and down my dick as the entire chair shook beneath us. I tried to keep my voice even, but it trembled slightly when I asked, “What are you doing?”
He ground his hips into me, jolting my stiff cock. “Inking you. That’s why you’re here, right?”
I watched him reach for a small spritz bottle of green surgical soap. “You’re kidding. Now?”
He squirted the bottle, dispensing cool spray against my heated skin. “Hold still,” he said.
Was he serious?
* * * *
In disbelief I watched him prep the spot where my tattoo would go. He wiped away the soap with an unused Burger King napkin, then leaned back to pluck a disposable razor off his tray. Each move he made shifted his p
osition on my cock, pulling it this way and that, bringing a wave of new sensations crashing over me. Deftly he shaved the area above my tit, then wiped it with the napkin again. The raw, red skin looked new in the overhead lights.
And he was impaled upon my dick the whole damn time. If it weren’t for the pulse of his body throbbing around my member, I would never have believed we were still joined together. Instead of wilting, my erection seemed to swell within him, building with unspent energy, waiting for release. I dug my fingers into his meaty buttocks and massaged his ass, hoping he’d take the hint—put down the tattoo gun and fuck me, already! When he didn’t, I growled his name. “Rist.”
“Quiet.” A dollop of gel soothed the razor burn, then he placed a template of the tattoo onto my chest. Carefully he peeled it away, leaving the image drawn on me. He sat back to inspect his work, rocking back on my dick. My eyes slipped shut as I hissed in delight. “There. That look good to you?”
Without opening my eyes, I murmured, “Hmm, yeah.” I thrust into him a little and felt the ring on his dick bump into my navel. “Fuck me, Rist. Forget the tattoo for a moment, will you? I’m about to bust a nut.”
His eyes sparkled wickedly. Grasping my arms, he wriggled his hips into my crotch as if he were trying to screw himself down tight onto my dick. I picked up the pace, bucking beneath him, hurrying to get off. Just as I felt myself at the brink of orgasm a second time, he stopped again. My mind reeled, thick with lust. “What the hell…”
The tattoo gun started up in response. Nerves churned in my stomach as I watched Rist dip the needles into a small pot of purple paint. “You’re not really going to,” I started. Then, when he positioned himself in front of me, one hand pulling the skin on my chest taut while the other drew the tattoo gun closer, I gripped his knees and tried a different approach. “You know this can’t be sanitary.”
A smile split through the concentration on his face. “You’re so far inside my ass, I can taste you in the back of my throat,” he said softly. “How sanitary is that?”
“It was your suggestion,” I countered.
“You didn’t say no.”
Before I could think of a reply, the needles touched my skin. Heat erupted from the spot but there wasn’t any real pain. It felt like a mean carpet burn, nothing more. Still, between the buzz of the machine and the pinpricks of discomfort, I turned my face and flinched, even as my dick quivered with need. But I wasn’t about to move and mess up the artwork, no matter how close I might be to release. I held my breath and waited until he paused, reaching for a napkin to wipe at the excess ink, before I allowed myself a short, quick thrust into him. “Please,” I sighed.
He didn’t answer.
I looked at him and saw raw hunger light up his eyes as he stared at his handiwork. His whole face seemed to glow with desire. I glanced at the beginnings of the tattoo, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. Beads of bright blood bubbled up through the ink—as I watched, one burst and trickled down my skin, over my nipple, before Rist’s finger flicked out to stop it. In a hushed voice, he murmured, “Hot damn. You’re a free bleeder.”
“Sorry?” I asked, unsure what he wanted me to say. “Is that going to be a problem or something?”
“Or something.” He raised his finger to his face as if he were going to sniff my blood on its tip, or maybe do something incredibly kinky like draw it onto his cheek like war paint. I bit my lower lip, waiting. If he did that, Jesus. How fucking sick is that? I’d probably come as he did it.
But what he did instead shocked me more, literally. I never considered myself overly kinky, but I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me, invigorating my senses. Like a lightning bolt, it ripped down my spine and into my erection, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. As his finger disappeared between his lips, his tongue darting out to taste my blood, my dick erupted in him with an explosive rush.
“That’s sick,” I said with a shaky laugh.
He grinned. “You liked it. Got you off, didn’t it?”
I couldn’t deny that. “What’s it taste like?” I wanted to know, fascinated.
“Blood,” he said, shrugging. “Warm, living, succulent. A little sweet, if I’m being honest. You taste good.”
A flush burned my face. “Yeah, and you know that how? Who else’s blood have you had lately?”
His lips parted in a smile that displayed those sharp teeth of his. His tongue licked over them, ruddy with my blood. In his face I saw more than I wanted to know. The pieces began to fall into place—his strength, his speed, his fetish with monsters. No, not monsters, not exactly.
With vampires. What had he said to me? “They’re out there, man.”
Shit.
I forced a laugh that sounded anything but funny. “You’re kidding me.”
His gaze never left my face. I watched, fascinated, as he leaned toward me, his rigid dick prodding against my belly the closer he got. I thought he planned to kiss me, let me savor the coppery taste in his mouth, and my chin jutted out, lips pursed, waiting. My cock began to stiffen again at the thought.
At the last moment, he dipped his head, the curls of his bangs tickling my face. I leaned back, giving him my neck. Isn’t that what vampires wanted? The jugular? I moved my hips beneath his, stirring my wilting erection back to life.
But no—he moved lower still, tongue out to trace the curve of my neck. He planted a kiss in the dimple above my clavicle, then another right above where he’d begun the tattoo. Through hooded eyes I watched, my breath short, staccato bursts that caught in the back of my throat. He wouldn’t…
He did.
With the next lap, his tongue licked over the open wound. I saw the tip turn a deep purple shot through with red swirls of blood. Watching me, he turned up his tongue and rubbed it over his front teeth. The ink and blood discolored them. The next lick wiped them clean.
“Is that safe?” I whispered, my voice barely heard over the music.
“The ink’s non-toxic,” Rist said, dipping down for another taste. His cock shuddered between us, as if my flesh and blood were orgasm-inducing ambrosia. His lower body moved slightly, grinding into me, renewing my libido.
“I meant…ahhh.” My words dissolved in a guttural, lusty growl as the muscles in his ass flexed around my cock. I thrust up into him, quick little bursts of energy designed to get me off again. “Yes, yes, please, God. That feels good.”
With one last taste of my tattooed skin, he wiped the remainder of ink away with a damp napkin. “This won’t kill you,” he promised. “In fact, you’ll probably heal faster, and hey, it’s better than taking a bite out of your neck to bleed you dry. Am I right?”
I couldn’t form a coherent answer. My head lolled back against the chair, my body trembling with need. When the tattoo gun began to buzz again, I barely flinched. My heart thudded in my chest, my blood surging through my veins to pound in my dick, deep in Rist’s ass. Each time he paused to dab away excess ink, I grabbed the chance to fuck him once, twice, three times in rapid succession as he leaned down to lick clean my wound. At some point, he plucked my hand off his waist and guided it to his weeping cock. I thumbed over his swollen tip, toyed with his piercing, tugged him toward release.
The tattoo seemed to take hours to complete. Every nerve in my body felt on edge, every synapse firing, every inch of me raw and bleeding before Rist. An eternity after he had begun, he set aside the tattoo gun and wrapped his arms around me as he pressed his mouth to my new ink. The heat of the tattoo disappeared in sharp pinpricks of pain, and like a child to a mother’s breast he sucked my blood through the wound.
I held him to me, my arms over his shoulders to hug him close. His head was cradled between my elbows, and my hands had a tight grip on his ass. I held his buttocks up and apart as I gave into the moment, fucking into him steadily now, the pressure in my dick building as we moved together. I felt sharp teeth scrape over my flesh, short nails dig into my back, Rist’s cock pinned fast between us. Yes, my mind
crowed as I gasped nonsensical sounds on the verge of language. Yes, and please, and oh, holy fuck, yes yes yesyesYES!
My second load burst from me, more violent than the first. A sudden wetness slicked my stomach as Rist came in unison. Sitting up slightly, he raised his head to kiss me, finally, to kiss me. Blood and saliva trickled on my chest, up my throat, onto my chin. Then his lips covered mine, staking their claim.
* * * *
To touch up the tattoo on my arm, Rist moved to the stool beside my chair. I winced as he worked, but I couldn’t deny how turned on I was sitting there naked in the empty tattoo parlor, being inked by the sexy, nude man at my side. Or should I say vampire? I thought it a lot of bullshit, to be honest, but every time he paused in his work, he would lean in to lick away the excess ink and whatever blood rose from the wound. The sight of my bright blood on his lips and tongue excited me all over again, and I sat with cock in hand as I watched him work. Before long I was hard again, my dick aching, my hand fast around the base as my fingers kneaded the veined shaft. My palm pressed into my balls as I thrust into my hand.
“Careful,” Rist warned when I moved too much. He would pull the needle away to avoid ruining his work and wait for me to stroke myself a time or two before he grabbed my arm again. His grip was fierce, his hand steady as he worked. From the thin hair at his crotch, his dick jutted out at me blindly. Whenever he licked my tat, his balls drew up toward his groin as if sucked in and his cock jiggled happily. In those moments, when he fed, I jerked my hand up and down my length as fast as I could, hurrying toward release.
As he finished up the tattoo, he wrapped it lightly with plastic wrap he taped into place. Watching the ink and blood splay out beneath the thin covering, I asked, “So now what?”
With a shrug, he told me, “No charge, man. We’re good.”
I wasn’t talking about the cost of the tattoo. “No, I mean…what happens next?”
Rist rummaged around on his tray until he found some papers hidden beneath a stack of napkins. He handed me a sheet, on which were written instructions for caring for the tattoo. “Keep it covered for an hour or so, then wash it real good with antibacterial soap. Don’t let anything press up against it while it heals—”
Tattooed Love - Gay Erotic Romance Box Set (5 Books in 1 Collection) Page 5