I want to eat him.
He's under me. Adjusting his head on the pillow. Just a slight roll. His mouth hangs open. His mouth is always open. He breathes through the wrong organ.
I can see his front teeth. Between his lips. I want to kiss them. His teeth. His lips. Him. All over.
He wouldn't be lying on the bed so carelessly if he didn't trust me. He doesn't even mind that I've basically caged him in with my arms and knees. He's oblivious to the implications. He's oblivious to everything unless it's right in front of his face.
And sometimes not even then.
He probably isn't even thinking about why I haven't moved off of him yet. I was climbing into bed. I was supposed to go to the other side. Passing by him along the way.
But once I was over him. I couldn't not be over him. He looks way too good from up here.
"Want to play ludo king with me?" he asks, eyes lighting up with the idea, one hand snaking toward his iPad just out of his reach on the mattress.
"No" I say. "I never want to play ludo king with you again."
"That time was fun, yeah?" He's nodding.
I shake my head. "Not in the slightest."
"You had fun. You were screaming."
"Out of frustration."
"Heh, liar"
I bend my elbows out of a knee jerk reaction to his little laugh. To kiss him. Am I allowed to kiss him? What are my limits for one day? I kissed him in the morning. Is it okay for me to kiss him again? Or would it be too much? Would it be clingy?
Where's the manual for relationships? I'm dying here.
I go in anyway. Bend elbows all the way, ninety degrees. Till my face is right above his. And I can breathe his breath. He smells like soap. And sweat. And sweets. At once.
I hear a tiny gasp. His breath hitches. His eyes widen. They search mine in a hurry. "What?" he asks, voice gone soft, kittenish. "What's- Why-" He gulps. And his lips touch closed for a moment before parting again.
I can't think. All the blood is in my cock.
"Can I kiss you?" I ask. My lashes graze his when he blinks.
He exhales in a rush. And the scent of him is heady. I breathe it in like a man starved for air.
"You want to-" he stutters.
"Yeah"
"I-" He blinks multiple times like his system's gone haywire. "I'm- I brushed my teeth."
What? I frown. Tyson usually doesn't make a lot of sense. And I try to understand him as best as I can. "You brushed your teeth?" I ask.
"Yeah" I feel his knuckles against my ribs.
"So?"
"I used- I used the flavored toothpaste."
Oh this is serious. "Which one?"
"The cotton candy"
"Ah" I cringe internally.
"You don't like that one."
"I really don't."
It seems we have a problem. I'm mulling over whether to risk throwing up just to feel his mouth against mine or not when Tyson's upper teeth sink into his lower lip.
I can't think again.
I feel my arms tremble as I ask him: "But you're okay with me kissing you?" My voice is botched. There's no fixing it. It's beyond my control.
"Yes" He nods. An infinitesimal downward jerk of his head. I want to maul him.
He's looking into my eyes. I wonder if he can see the wild, unhinged thirst there. Swirling inside of me like a forest fire. I wonder if he can see all the dirty, debauched things I want to do to him.
A shiver goes through him.
His bottom lip slipping free.
I lower myself on my hands till my lips touch his just so. He's tense. He's holding himself stock still. Like he's waiting for something. Waiting for me to do something to him. It's not enough. It will never be enough.
Nothing will ever be enough.
I let my mouth fold over his. Slowly. Gently. He's soft. Pliant. His hands fist in my shirt. Against my chest. My nose nudges his. I inhale. Breathing him in. From as close as possible.
He's a mixture of everything I want to sink my teeth into.
I bite him. He gasps.
His mouth opens.
My hips are not quite touching his. I don't know my limits with him. I don't know what's okay and what's not. But he's heating up. And I know I'm having at least half the effect he's having on me.
I let my tongue slip in. Just a little. Enough to taste him. My heart's hammering.
He reciprocates.
Our tongues meet and I'm in free-fall. Tumbling down from a very high tower. And I don't stop falling.
I want to kiss his neck.
I want to kiss his stomach.
I want to kiss where he's most sensitive.
Tyson's knee knocks against mine. I want to put my hands on him.
He pulls away with a loud intake of air.
"I can't breathe," he says, all breathy.
I try not to pant too much. I'm heavy between my legs. He's unaware of the problems he's causing. "You're supposed to breathe through your nose. Not your mouth."
"But I'm kissing you."
"Yeah. With your mouth."
"I'm not good at multitasking." He frowns.
Oh lord. I have an excellent idea. "Do you want me to teach you? We can practice."
"Kissing and not choking?"
"Yes"
"Mm" He's pensive. He's staring at some spot on my chest. "Later. Not now."
"Why?" I try not to sound whiny. I succeed.
"I have to go to the bathroom." He meets my eyes and looks away quickly. He went to the toilet five minutes ago. Weird. Tyson keeping secrets.
I finally roll off of him and sit back with a sigh as he climbs out of bed and flees to the en suite.
Hmm. Suspicious.