Page 98 of Stalked By Shadows

He gave me a little smile. “What are you afraid of?”

“Honestly?”

He nodded.

“Hurting you. Not being enough. Waking up to find this is all a dream. I’m afraid of a lot actually.”

He yanked me down until my lips met his in a fierce kiss, and sweet baby Jesus was that amazing. The strength of his hands in my hair, his force on my lips, he left no doubt of his motives. I sank into his mouth, exploring every crevasse of it with my tongue, and teasing his in return. Fine. If he wasn’t going to chicken out, I could do this thing, right? And oh fuck did I want to. I stripped out of my shirt, kicked off my shorts, socks, and boxers while watching him strip too. He was beautiful, though I’d been wrong. He’d lost a little weight, mostly through the hips and tummy, easily hidden by his clothing. But wow.

“Wow,” I said looking at him. He was still everything that turned me on. Those amazing blue eyes, the freckles dotting his tiny nose, and the sweep of pale brown hair falling across his cheekbones. The sleek musculature of his body made me think very naughty things. Like how bendy was he? His thighs and butt were a soft flow of skin, looking almost feminine, but not quite. I longed to run my hands over that flesh, trace the curve of his ass, and kiss the base of his spine.

He gave me a sweet smile. Mask not fully gone, but little cracks in the exterior. He stepped into my personal space, grabbed me, and dragged me down onto the bed. In charge, and that was more than okay. Skin against skin, I sighed, marveling at the heat.

“Fuck me,” he said.

I put my hands on his face, kissing his lips, then the tip of his nose and examining his eyes. “You’re here with me?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “And you’re here with me.” His lips found mine, and we dueled for a while. The warmth and flavor of him alive and vaguely familiar on my tongue. That at least was the same. Dehydration or something more sinister, at least Micah was Micah in my arms.

I rocked my hips against his, pressing my cock into his. He groaned. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” I agreed. His precome leaked against my thigh, and I ran my hands over his pale chest to find his dusky nipples and play with them, still kissing him like he was the air I needed. “Can I explore? Touch you? I want to memorize every bit of your skin,” I whispered.

“Sure,” he agreed, almost seeming confused. I remembered back to the videos I’d watched of him, and how it was never foreplay for him. It was him getting fucked or sucking off someone. He’d always been silent, small noises muffled by the mask he’d worn to hide his identity. I wondered a lot about that. Did that mean he didn’t enjoy the foreplay, or was it not necessary for the camera?

“Do you not like being touched?” I had to know if it bothered him.

“I don’t need much,” he said.

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t like a little foreplay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Good. Think of me as a texture freak too. I want to memorize the texture of your skin, the lines of your muscles and the feeling of your thighs.” I kissed his lips again, dueled his tongue with my own and breathed a sigh of happiness at his body pressed against mine, but I wanted more. I rolled him beneath me and ran my hands over his chest and stomach, studying the smoothness of his skin. Soft, with a hint of definition, his body was sleek and sexy. His nipples a duskier pale brown than pink, and when I brushed my thumbs over them, they pebbled. I bent to taste one, sucking it into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. He rewarded me with a soft sigh. That was a start at least.

“Don’t hold back your cries with me, okay?” I begged. “Be real, so I can know what I’m doing right.” I licked at the nipple again, biting it gently then blowing warm breath across his wet flesh.

He shivered. “You’re doing fine.”

“Fine…” I narrowed my eyes at him over the word and turned to the other nipple while playing with the already abused one by rolling it between my fingers. He pressed his hips into my thigh, seeking friction. The wetness of his cock sliding along my skin. But I was nowhere near done.

I found a slow dance of exploration, tasting his skin as I slid my mouth in a soft trail of kisses down his body. His belly button and hip bones were as sensitive as his nipples, making him tremble beneath me. He gave me little sighs and wrapped a hand in my hair, but didn’t try to force me in any particular direction, though his cock was hard and dripping.

While I longed to wrap my mouth around his length, there was more I needed to explore first. My own cock ached with the weight of need, begging for touch, friction, and heat. Not yet, not until I knew every inch of his skin.

There were freckles on his right hip, even a few on his pale thighs. I lifted his right leg to study those marks, adding small kisses to each and lapping at the trail from hip down over his thigh and toward his round little ass.

“Fuck,” I grumbled at him, kissing the bottom of his butt cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” I wanted to taste his legs, and even trace the arches of his feet, but the view… legs open, cock hard, a hint of his hole beneath his heavy sack… it was almost too much. It was a concentrated effort to not come right then and there at the sight of him.

I kissed the bottom of each ass cheek, separating them with my hands to study the dusky clench of him. Would it be weird for him if I did what I’d longed to do every time I saw a video of his fine ass? This wasn’t porn, real life was messier, sometimes clumsy, and sometimes amazing. I didn’t mind all three. Would he?

“Can I?” I asked, not sure if I could voice the words. Instead I leaned in to taste his balls. Those weren’t as familiar. He’d often hidden them, trapped them in girly underwear to give the illusion of things that didn’t really matter to me. They were good size, the skin soft and delicate beneath my tongue as I sucked them into my mouth. This time he gave me a full moan. That… again I had to fight back coming.

His cock, in general, dissipated the illusion of femininity since he was a decent size and girth, enough to fit firmly in the palm of my hand. That part of him wasn’t slim and delicate. Sad, that he’d hidden it away, though I was more than a little pleased to be one of the few who had been given uninhibited access to it.

When I let his balls go it was to lick a trail up the underside of his cock and tease at his glans, and he writhed beneath me, hips thrusting toward my mouth. But I wasn’t ready for that yet. Instead I lapped at his precome, savoring the salty edge of sweetness on my tongue. I couldn’t remember anyone tasting this good, but most often I’d only given head on a guy wearing a condom. Even the flavored ones couldn’t really mask the underlying chemical of the sheath.

I traced the line of his cock, down around his balls, to that dark taint beneath, and the clenching hole. At first, I hesitated a little, never having tasted this end of the passion. I traced the rim of him with my fingertips, breezing over the surface, studying the crinkled edges and delicate texture of the muscle. Then I bent forward to taste it. The edge of worry in the back of my brain, but there was just his skin and soft, salty flavor beneath my tongue.