Cue the sound of a needle scratching over an LP.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Blay asked. “I mean, what if something bursts open and—”
“The only thing bursting is going to be you, lover mine—”
“Qhuinn. I’m serious.”
“So am I.” When Blay stayed where he was—way out of hands-on range, much less tongue-piercing reach—Qhuinn tried to level his stare and pretend he wouldn’t say absolutely anything to get what he wanted. “They weren’t even going to make me take a wheelchair back. I’m allowed to walk on my own. And I already feel soooo much better.”
“You can’t roll onto your side.”
“That’s my hips, not my head. And besides, your pelvis is going to do the work, not mine.”
It was probably unfair to flick his piercing around, but what was that saying? All’s fair in love and blow jobs?
Okay, fine. That wasn’t the saying.
“Please,” he said. “And I promise I’ll tell you if anything hurts.”
There was a pause. And then Blay stroked his cock.
“Good,” Qhuinn said with a smile.
“I haven’t said yes.”
“Yeah, you have. You’re pumping yourself off.”
Blay looked down as if he’d had no clue what his palm was doing. “Traitor,” he muttered.
“Are you talking to your hand right now?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Just give me my medicine, Blay. You’re not going to hurt me.”
Worried blue eyes stared over. “I couldn’t bear that.”
“I know. It’s one of the many reasons I trust you.”
With the decision fi
nally made, there wasn’t any more talking, the blunt head of that arousal coming at Qhuinn’s mouth, just as he’d begged for. And yes, he opened wide and took it all, sucking the length in, savoring the heat, the taste, the guttural sound that his mate made. Lifting his eyes, he had the pleasure of watching Blay’s head fall back and his arm shoot out to steady a rocky balance on the solid wall behind him.
A smacking noise rose up between his face and Blay’s hips, quiet, repetitive, achingly erotic. The rhythm was slow, Blay deliberately taking his time. Which was fine—until it became frustrating, at which point it was even better. Snaking a hand out, Qhuinn grabbed onto the back of his lover’s thigh and opened his throat, taking the full tip to base, everything stretching, his head moving back on the pillow.
Blay gasped and started to pump properly, noises rumbling in his chest, his breath starting to come fast and hard. And yet he was holding back.
Qhuinn pulled himself free of his prize, his lips releasing the head with a pop. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Give me everything.”
Those blue eyes flared. But then went to Qhuinn’s abs. “It feels so good, but—”
“It could be better.” Qhuinn put Blay’s hand on the back of his own skull. “Fuck me proper. You know you want to.”
“You’re just out of—”
To cut the conversation, Qhuinn extended his tongue and deliberately tickled the tip of Blay’s arousal with his piercing, the silver ball teasing, tasting… tempting, assuming he was doing it right.
“Oh, Qhuinn, God…”