I don’t answer verbally.
Instead, I drop to my knees in front of him, the kitchen floor cool against my skin, and wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft. Hot and rigid in my grip, the vein pulsing like a heartbeat.
The metal of the barbells gleams under the light, cool and smooth against my touch as I stroke upward, feeling each ridge bump against my fingertips.
His cock twitches in response, the Prince Albert ring shifting slightly with the motion.
My hands land on his thighs, fingers digging into the muscle as I lean in, my breath ghosting over his cock. I eye it ravenously, the drop of precum teetering on the tip, calling to me, teasing for me to reach out with my tongue.
I lean closer, tongue darting out—I lick it. It’s warm and slick, coating my tongue as I swirl it around the head, tracing the curve of the ring with deliberate laps.
A soft, experimental swipe, tasting him. Warm. Slightly salty. My eyes flutter.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
That’s all the encouragement I need.
I wrap my hand around him, fingers barely meeting, and guide him toward my mouth. My lips part, and I take him in slowly, stretching around the thickness, feeling the cool metal of the piercing brush against my tongue.
His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and I feel the barbells press against my lower lip as I take more of him in.
It sends a shock straight through me. I moan around him.
His hand comes up instantly, fingers tangling in my hair—not pulling, just holding me there. Possessive. “That’s it,” he mutters. “Take it.”
I slide down further, inch by inch, until I feel the stretch at the back of my throat. My eyes water, but I don’t pull away. I breathe through my nose, adjusting, relaxing, taking more.
His hips jerk again. “Jesus?—”
I pull back, then take him in again. Slow. My tongue presses along the underside, tracing over the barbells, feeling every ridge, every piece of him.
He groans, head tipping back.
I tighten my lips as I pull up, then sink down again, faster this time. My hand twists at the base, matching the movement of my mouth.
Wet sounds fill the space.
I suck gently at first, my cheeks hollowing as I draw him deeper, the thickness stretching my mouth wide. The thick metal ring rubs against the roof of my mouth with each bob of my head, a rhythmic friction that sends vibrations through me.
His skin is velvet-soft over the unyielding hardness, and I hum around him, feeling it echo back in his low rumble.
My free hand cups his balls, heavy and warm, rolling them gently as I pick up speed, my saliva dripping down his shaft to mix with the wetness gathering at the base.
He tightens his grip in my hair, guiding my rhythm now, his breaths coming in sharp pants. “Look at me,” he orders.
I look up at him through my lashes—still moving, my lips stretched around him.
His lazy smile twists into something feral as he thrusts shallowly into my mouth.
The barbells catch against my tongue on every slide out, a teasing drag that makes my core clench with heat. My thighs press together, slickness building between them, my body aching from the way his scent—musky and masculine—fills my senses.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You look so good like this. Taking my cock in your pretty mouth so well.”
Heat floods my body.
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat to swallow around the head, the Prince Albert bumping against the back as I gag slightly, tears pricking my eyes.
He hisses, his free hand bracing against the counter behind him, knuckles whitening.