Page 36 of Slick & Spooky

“Obviously cocoa powder,” he says, counting off on his fingers, “plus flour, red dye, and water.”

“It’s thick.”

He squeezes a small portion onto his middle finger and brings it to his mouth, tongue flicking as he tastes it. “I kinda like it.”

His hooded gaze is all the warning I get before he pounces. I love him most like this. So focused and wild and sure of himself.

He sets the bottle down and climbs over me, the weight of him pressing heat into my legs. For a second, all I can hear is breath and the soft drag of fabric as my cock springs free, snapping up and landing against my stomach with a wet sound, flushed deep red and already leaking.

“What are you doing?”

The shock of cold hits before he answers. Fake blood poured in a line over my cock. I hiss, not from pain, but because suddenly every nerve is tuned to him. To where he could touch. To where he might.

He reaches over and wraps a hand around my length, stroking slowly, spreading the mixture as he goes. The fake blood coating every inch of me is obscene, sticky and glistening under the low light.

“You really love coating my dick in the weirdest shit, Ty.”

He grins, leaning in until he’s settled between my legs. “At least this one’s safe for me to help clean up.”

He looks up at me, eyes dark and steady, as his tongue flicks out to tease the head circling just beneath the foreskin. I reach down and brush the curls from his face, and he flashes that wicked smile right before sinking down and taking me all the way in.

This never gets old.

That electric jolt that shoots up my spine the second I feel the head of my cock tap the back of his throat nearly stops my fucking heart. He bobs, slow at first, then faster, drool spilling over and trailing down my shaft until it’s dripping into the curls at the base.

When he adds a hand, my vision whites out. Just gone. Obliterated.

He pops off and grins up at me. “Tastes good.”

“Fuuuck,” I groan, staring down at his pouty mouth smeared with streaks of red. When he curls his bottom lip in and bites it, I reach down and tug it free with my thumb. He tips his head, nuzzling into my hand like it’s instinct, like he needs the contact.

“You like when I’m a good boy?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah. You look beautiful sucking it.”

I guide him up with my palm, rising onto one elbow to meet him halfway. When our faces are close enough, I crash my mouth against his, teeth finding his bottom lip and nipping hard enough to make him gasp.

I push forward and we go together, lips locked, our mouths sloppy and desperate as he falls back against the mattress. I follow, never breaking the kiss, settling between his legs. He wraps them around my waist and my cock slots perfectly between his cheeks, nudging at his entrance.

I lick my palm and reach between us, teasing the tight ring of muscle with slow strokes.

His breath stutters. “Knox…”

“Shh,” I murmur, licking into his mouth again.

But then I pause, glancing over his shoulder. “Wait?—”

I reach out, hand fumbling until my fingers close around the squirt bottle still sitting on the nightstand. I shake it once, the mixture sloshing inside, and grin as I meet his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he laughs, “you wouldn’t.”

I tip the bottle of fake blood and let a thick stream of the fake blood drizzle down between us, the liquid bright and sticky as it rolls over the already stained head of my cock, down my shaft, and pools at his hole.

“We both know I would,” I whisper, smearing it with my fingers, rubbing it in messy circles.

The way he opens comes with no words, only whimpers.

What comes next is second nature. The way he accepts me and tightens around me with each thrust. The way we move together like a ritual we never had to learn. We just knew.