His pants lower maybe an inch and then stop, hung up on something.
"Second tie," he mutters, reaching out to grip a handful of my tunic. He squeezes the fabric, then heads for my breast. "Over my tail."
"Ah ah," I say, and remove his hand. "We didn't say you could touch me."
"Kef," he growls, irritated at this. "Let me touch you, too."
"Nope. That's a future reward." I reach behind the small of his back, and sure enough, there's a second tie. I pull the knotloose and his pants fall lower on his hips. "And if you don't stop making demands, I'm going to stop entirely."
He makes a pained sound in his throat, but he does as I command, his eyes practically burning holes into me as I lower his pants even further. Below the belt, his body hair thins out, his balls covered in a tuft of fur but his shaft is bare skin, flushed pink. The head of his cock is such a deep shade of pink it looks purple, and it's thick and prominent, peeking out from his foreskin and wet with arousal. As I watch, he extends out of his foreskin a little more, as if stretching towards my grasp. On his shaft, there are small, circular marks that stipple all over his skin. It's far too regular a pattern to be anything but deliberate. "Your mystery markings are still here."
"Did you expect them to go somewhere?" he all but pants, breathless.
With a very deliberate eyebrow raise, I take great pleasure in reminding him who's in charge right now. "You're being kind of sassy for a man who's about to get my hands on his dick, pussycat."
"I don't know what the marks are," he states again, impatience in his tone. "I've never known and it bothers me, all right? If I had an answer, I'd tell you."
Fair enough. I feel a twinge of guilt that I'm killing the mood, especially since I know what it's like to have big chunks of your memory missing and feel as if it should be there. "It won't hurt if I touch you, will it?"
He huffs a laugh, his teeth bared. "It won't. It'll kill me if youdon'ttouch me, though."
Pleasurable heat curls through my body, spreading under my skin. My khui is thrumming to his, the ever-present song making me feel warm and giddy and achingly needy. I know it's an artificial sensation brought on by the parasite, but at times like this, it's hard to care whether it's real or not. It's insistent,and giving in to it feels better than fighting. "Don't worry. I plan on touching you, Valmir."
Our eyes meet. The moment hangs in the air between us, his expression tense and hungry. With our eyes locked, I spit on my hand.
And then I drag my slick palm over his cock.
He groans as if he's being killed, his eyes fluttering closed. "Disgusting."
"Want me to stop, then?"
"Kef no," he practically gasps. "Spit on it again. Make it wetter."
I laugh, the sound throaty and pleased. I lick my palm again, getting it good and wet, and then I stroke him. Valmir jerks, thrusting into my grip. He likes that. I caress his length, noting that he fills my hand. He's the perfect size — big enough to be impressive, but not so big that I'm alarmed at the sight of him. I work him, moving up and down his shaft, keeping my grip just tight enough to make him crazy.
I slide down his length, then drag my hand back up again, squeezing tighter around the head of his cock.
And then I slap his ass, so hard that the crack of it echoes in the air around us.
He grunts, and another bead of pre-cum dribbles down the head of his cock. I add it to the wetness on my hand, palming him and working his shaft. "Too hard?"
"No...such...thing."
I chuckle at that and caress him again. There are not a lot of words between us for a while. I touch him, working his cock with my hand and occasionally smacking his ass. It's obvious he loves what I'm doing — the noises he makes are heated with excitement, and the pre-cum that coats the head of his cock is copious. His hips begin to jerk in time with my strokes, and he makes little grunting noises in his throat.
"I want to come," he tells me, voice tense.
"I don't know about that, pussycat," I tease, slowing my grip. "You don't have permission."
"I'm going to come," he warns me again. A pebble pings down the wall from where he's gripping it and hits my boot. His claws scratch at the stone, his tail thrashing.
"I'll think about letting you." By this point, I'm turned on, too. I've been fascinated by watching how he responds to my touch, how I can make him jerk and shudder, how I can make him utter those feral sounds. How I can make him drip more pre-cum for me. My khui is purring with frantic need, and I'm slick between my thighs.
Am I ready to stop teasing him, though? Not hardly. There's a twisted thrill in making him come to the edge and not letting him go over. I want to enjoy that for a little bit longer.
"April—" His breathing is ragged, his voice desperate.
"Nope." I lean over him and blow a soft breath over his heated skin, just because I'm enjoying myself far too much.