Naughty November

Chapter 5

FIVE

DEVIN

I wake first, oddly rested, even though I’m sure the hotel room has never truly become quiet or dark. Jools is snuggled up to me, his head on my chest, his ear over my heart. He’s stunning. I memorise how peaceful his face is, how his feathery hair tickles my skin, and his body’s warmth as he presses against me, holding me despite being deeply asleep. Not that I let him go, either. I don’t care that my arm, looped beneath and around him, is numb. I only care that we’re here together.

His lashes flutter, and he whimpers as he wakes. He smiles as he focuses on me. My heart swells and soars.

“Morning,” he whispers.

I cup his cheek and stroke it with my thumb. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Yes.” He stretches and then snuggles closer. “I think that’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had since leaving Australia.” He peers at me. “How did you know how to help me sleep?”

“Because I know you. I know what helps you relax. I know what makes you feel safe. ”

A thoughtful line slashes down the centre of his brow as he frowns. “Even after all these years?”

“Yes.”

He scrunches his nose. “Or maybe you’re just good at making people relax. It must be part of your job.”

I chuckle. “It is. Maybe it’s a bit of both.”

“That works.” He strokes circles over my chest. “Your offer to help me explore my kinky side?—”

I hitch in a breath and wait.

“You’d make me feel safe then, too, wouldn’t you?”

I hug him tight. “Yes. Safer than you’ve ever felt before.”

He smiles and closes his eyes. “I believe you.”

I want to play with him, but it has to be his decision. His choice. I looked over the kink list he sent me during the tube journey between The Library and his hotel, memorising his selections. My heart leapt into my throat when I noticed he’d put a star beside ‘writing on skin’ and another beside ‘restraints’. He’s never been restrained before, and, as far as I know, no one has drawn on his skin except me, and I’ve never done it with the intention of turning him on. Would he let me tie him up while I turn his skin into a tapestry of adoration?

He opens his eyes and stares at me. “Will you help me? Will you teach me?”

I swallow away a lump of emotion. “Yes. Whenever you want me to.”

He pushes onto his elbow and presses a soft kiss to my lips before gazing into my eyes again. “Now?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m done thinking, Devin. I want to feel. I want to feel with you. Because of you.”

I take hold of his shoulders and roll him so he’s on his back, and I’m draped over him. I kiss him hard, using my lips to massage and my tongue to explore and taste his sweetness. He has the lingering taste of mint on his breath.

I nuzzle his nose. “Not here. Let’s go to mine.”

He brushes his fingers over my jaw and nods.

“We have things to discuss first. ”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Your safewords. What, exactly, on the list you want to try out.”

“Anything with a star next to it. You choose.”

I shake my head. As much as I’d love to guide him to my choices, it has to be his decision. “I’m going to pee. Look at your list and tell me what you’re most drawn to.”

I kiss him and then leave him, taking far longer in the bathroom than I need to so Jools has time to consider his list. When I return to the bedroom, he’s curled on his side, the list I gave him pinched between his thumb and forefinger. I forget to breathe for a moment. Is this a dream? Am I truly going to get to play with the boy I’ve loved for years? My heart has been entangled with his since the moment we met. Nine years apart hasn’t dampened my feelings for him one bit.

He turns, smiles, and beckons.

I go to him, slipping into the bed beside him. I lie facing him. “Have you chosen?”

“I—think so.” His hesitance is adorable. He jabs his finger underneath ‘writing on skin’. “I like when you draw on my skin. You’re the only person I’ve ever given permission to do it.”

My heart warms.

He frowns. “But I looked this up last night, and everything I found said it’s often used for humiliation. I don’t think I’d like that. Plus, you said you weren’t into that, either.”

And yet he starred it anyway.

“What I write wouldn’t have to be humiliating. We can make the kink our own, Jools. Use it in a way that turns us on.”

His frown dissipates and morphs into a bright smile. “I’d like that. The writing is supposed to last, isn’t it? Much longer than my skin reacts.”

I kiss his forehead. “We could do both. I could use markers and a toothpick. Some words would last, others would be fleeting.”

He shivers. “I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“We could wash it off tonight.”

He shakes his head. “No—I—I think I’d like to keep your words on me like a secret.”

I groan as the image flashes through my head: Jools, at work, my words on his skin, hidden beneath his clothes. “There’s no need to decide that now.” But oh, how I want him to feel the same way in the morning. I point to ‘restraints’. “You also starred this.”

“Yes.”

“Have you been restrained before?”

“No. Nate wanted to tie me up, but it didn’t feel right with him.”

“And with me?”

He meets my stare. “I trust you.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling like all my Christmases have come at once. “Safe words.” I need to keep my thoughts on track. I’m the Dom. I have to take care of Jools, not get caught up in the moment.

“Traffic lights?”

“That works. You must use them, Jools. There’s never any shame in needing things to slow down or stop altogether. Things that seem sexy in theory can sometimes be overwhelming in reality.”

“I’ll use them.”

“Are we just playing or?—?”

He crooks the right side of his mouth into a lusty smile. “Play with me, Devin. Play with me and make love to me.”

I kiss him like it’s the last chance I’ll ever get to taste his lips. “Let’s go to mine.”

After showering separately, we walk to the tube station and head towards my flat. I divert us early so we can go to a shop to buy markers that are safe to use on Jools’ skin but won’t smudge or smear with ease. I choose his favourite colours: red, orange, yellow. The colours of the sunset reflected in a still lake. The colours of the flames of a campfire that warmed us as we kissed. The colours that were reflected on his pale skin, as I realised I was falling in love with him. I also buy toothpicks. I have everything else we’ll need, including cuffs that will be soft against his wrists and ankles.

We talk, too, continuing our mission to catch up on nine years apart while also revisiting joint memories. Our first kiss. First tentative touches. Wanting more but too nervous and unsure to voice our desires to take that step. We apologise for losing touch the first time and not making the effort the second time.

I let him into my flat. “Let’s not think about it anymore. We’re here, together, now. That’s all that matters.”

Jools puts his rucksack containing his work clothes and toiletries down and embraces me. “I’m still having a hard time believing we were lucky enough to run into each other again.”

I hold him.

He dips his head, resting his cheek on my shoulder. “Do you remember what you said right before I left for Australia?”

I stroke his hair. The words are ingrained in my heart. “We’re meant to be together, Jools. You’ll see.”

“Do you still believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why couldn’t you say it when you said goodbye in Amsterdam?”

My chest tightens. “Because I was stupid. Because I was awed that fate had brought us back together once and wasn’t sure I could rely on it to bring us back together again.”

“Serendipity,” he whispers.

“Isn’t there a film called that?”

He chuckles. “Yes. We watched it as kids. You sulked because you ‘didn’t want to watch a stupid romance movie.’”

“It was stupid.”

He lifts his head and stares into my eyes. “Was it?”

I shrug and huff a little.

Jools laughs, steps back, holds my hand, and swings my arm. “You were going to tie me up and write on my skin.”

I squeeze his hand. “Is that what you still want?”

He inhales, releases his breath, and nods. “Yes. I trust you.”

“Make yourself at home. I’ll get the bedroom set up.”

“Can I help?”

“No. Relax. I promise I’ll take care of you, Jools.”

“I know you will. It’s why I’m more excited than nervous.”

“Nerves are natural.”

He smiles. “I know that, too. ”

I pull him close and kiss his forehead. “Relax. I’ll be ready soon.”

I go to my bedroom, change the bed sheets for fresh ones, and loop my softest cuffs around the mattress. I put the pens and toothpicks on the bedside table, along with lube, condoms, and lotion to rub into his wrists and ankles when we’re done. I close the curtains and turn the bedside lamp on. It exudes soft, warm light. I turn the heating up, so that Jools won’t be cold while we play, and fetch a blanket to cover him in when we’re done. Finally, I prepare a sweet drink and biscuits. I have no idea how high he’ll soar or how fast and hard he’ll drop.

Jools is on the sofa, flicking through channels on the TV. He’s jogging his knee up and down. I lean over the back of the sofa and kiss the crook of his neck.

“Nerves are natural, but if we’re moving too fast, let me know. We can do something else today. Revisit this when you’re feeling more ready.”

He runs his fingers through my hair. “I am ready.” His firm statement is good enough for me.

I lead him to the bedroom, watching his reaction as he takes in the bed and everything on and near it. He sucks in a breath.

“Remember your safe words. It’s never too late to ask to slow down or stop.”

“I’m okay. It’s just new and exciting. The kink and doing it with you. I’m okay. Green.”

I turn him to face me and hold him, silently thanking him for dipping his knees so I can kiss him tenderly. I peel his clothes off, replacing them with kisses. I pause when he’s wearing nothing but his underwear and run my finger around the waistband without attempting to remove them. He said he wanted to play and make love. Is that still what he wants?

“I want to be naked for you,” he whispers.

I slide his underwear down his legs and then step back to admire him. He has marked tan lines where a T-shirt and knee-length shorts would be.

“You never sunbathe naked, then.”

He barks out a laugh. “Uh, no.” He tilts his head. “What now?”

“Lie down. ”

He obeys, making himself comfortable on the bed, his clear blue stare fixed on me.

I sit beside him, pick up one of the cuffs, and brush the inside of it over his wrist. “Are you still happy for me to restrain you?”

“Yes.”

I fasten the cuff around his wrist and check it’s not too tight with my finger. I rest his arm on the pillow above his head and then lean over him to bind his other wrist. I lay his hand over the first and then kiss his lips softly. I move to the bottom of the bed, position his left leg where I want it, bind it, and repeat the process with the right. He’s stunning, splayed out for me. I watch his breathing for any signs of distress and focus on the expression on his face. His eyes are bright. His lips curled into a sweet smile. His body is a little tense, but he doesn’t seem worried, scared, or stressed.

“Is there anywhere you don’t want me to touch? Any part of your body you don’t want me to write on?”

He chuckles. “I need to be able to go to work tomorrow.”

“I won’t use pens on your face, hands, or neck. Do you wear a long-sleeved shirt?”

“I don’t dress that formally. I could wear a long-sleeved T-shirt. Or a jumper. It is November.”

“Isn’t your office heated?”

“Eh, I’m practically an Australian now. No one will bat an eyelid at me if I wrap up warmer than everyone else.”

“Is there anywhere else I should avoid?”

He shakes his head.

I glance pointedly at his groin. “Sure?”

“Yes. My body is yours, De—” He stutters to a halt. “Do you have a Dom name? Am I supposed to call you ‘Sir’?”

I brush my lips over his before turning the barely there motion into a proper, deep kiss full of need and longing. “Only if you want to. Your body is mine?”

“Yes.”

I pick up the red pen and write ‘MINE’ along his collarbone. He shivers and whimpers as the pen dances across his skin.

“It tingles,” he whispers. “Buzzes. ”

“Is it nice?”

“Yes. It’s always nice when it’s you.”

A few seconds later, pale red blooms around the letters, slowly becoming darker and brighter. I wait a few minutes to see if welts form, too. They do, although they’re not as pronounced as the times I’ve drawn my nail across his skin.

I write ‘beautiful’ across his chest, which is how I’ve always seen him. Even before I knew I wanted him to be more than a friend. I take my time forming each letter, glancing up in between to see the reaction on his face. His expression is relaxed. He watches me rather than the pen, his stare full of adoration and awe. The tension I noted in his body when I first restrained him drifts away with each stroke of the pen.

I switch to orange and write ‘I missed you’ down the inside of his right thigh. He shivers as my knuckles brush against his balls. His cock hardens and stands to attention. In response, my pulse increases, and blood rushes to my dick. It strains against my zip, but I’m not ready to release it. Not ready to show Jools how much I want and need him, even though I’m pretty sure he knows.

He bites his lip. “I didn’t imagine this would be so sexy.”

“I’ve only just started.” I stroke his length—just once—and then lean down to kiss the tip of his cock. I smile in smug satisfaction as a bead of clear precum leaks from his slit. I lick it off and then slam my lips over his, transferring the taste to his mouth.

“Devin,” he whispers.

I swap the orange pen for a toothpick and scratch XOXOXO down the inside of his left arm. “Does it hurt?” I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

“No. It doesn’t hurt.”

I wait until his skin reacts and then trace the puffy lines lovingly with my finger. I retrieve the red pen and write ‘sexy’ down one V line, repeating it up the other. I use yellow to write ‘stunning’ across his stomach and ‘treasured’ over his ribs.

I retrieve a clean toothpick from the pot and hover the point over his neck. “Will it hurt if I write here?” I draw the toothpick through the air from one side of his neck to the other.

He swallows. “No. ”

I gently scratch ‘good boy’ into his skin, like a collar across his neck. I say each letter out loud, watching as realization dawns in his eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to lick his lips. “I am a good boy.”

I smile and kiss his temple. “I know you are.”

His fingers twitch as though he wants to touch his neck, but he can’t, so I do it for him, stroking over the welts that are rising faster than on his arms.

I glance at the first word I wrote. His skin is no longer white and raised around it. It amuses me that I can use his skin to gauge the passage of time.

I write ‘cherished’ in orange beneath ‘treasured’ and then pause and hold his gaze. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Kiss me.”

I write it in yellow opposite ‘MINE’ and then reward him with a peck on the lips.

“Hold me.”

I write the phrase in red beside ‘beautiful’ on his chest. Once I’m sure the ink is dry, I lay beside him, holding him until his skin blooms white beneath the letters.

“Squeeze me.”

I smirk, sit, and write it in tiny orange letters around his left nipple. When I’m done, I pinch and roll it between my thumb and forefinger. He gasps, moans, and arches his back. His lashes flutter. His reaction is adorable. I write that in yellow on his right arm and then pause, tapping the pen against my lips to show him I want another statement from him—another request.

“Fuck me,” he whispers.

I lay between his legs and write his plea around his pretty hole in orange. “Later.”

He whimpers and pouts.

I swipe my thumb over his lips to rub the pout away. “I thought you were a good boy?”

“I am.”

“Just needy?”

“For you? Always. ”

I write ‘needy for Devin’ over his heart in red and then give his cock a single, loving stroke. “Who does this belong to?”

“You.”

He squeaks and moans as my name goes along the length of his cock in orange. I write ‘talented’ in large, looping letters down his left leg. I’m still in awe of his skill with languages and how he turned that into a career that lights up his eyes whenever he talks about it.

“I’m going to write faster now. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He nods, his needy stare still fixed on me. I hold all three pens so its easier to switch between them and begin to write, filling up the gaps between the words and phrases I’ve already decorated him with, alternating colours so I’m turning his skin into a tapestry of red, orange, and yellow. ‘I believe in you’, because I always have and can’t imagine a time when I won’t. ‘I need you’. So, so much. ‘I’m so happy you’re here’. I doubt I could convey exactly how happy.

The more I write, the more he wriggles and whimpers. I keep a close eye on him, relieved to see no flicker of pain on his face. He’s completely relaxed now despite his inability to keep still. I remember the words he uses to describe how it feels when his skin reacts. Tingling. Buzzing. It’s hard to imagine. Is it turning him on? From the way his cock is leaking, it must be. I pause every now and then to lick the precum from his slit and kiss him. He moans into my mouth and licks his precum from the tip of my tongue as though it’s the nectar of the gods.

I use the toothpick on his hands, covering them front and back with words of love and affirmation. ‘Kind’, ‘thoughtful’, ‘amazing’, ‘inspiring’, ‘gorgeous’, ‘considerate’.

I fill his legs with longer phrases, sometimes using pens, other times toothpicks to create a more ephemeral effect. ‘I love your smile’. ‘Your laugh is beautiful’. ‘Your eyes are stunning’. I say every word and phrase out loud, so he knows what’s being recorded on his skin. So he knows how I think and feel about him.

“Devin!” His eyes are closed now, his breath a series of light moans and pants.

I find space on his stomach for ‘I never want to lose you again’ and down his ribs for ‘I’ll always be here for you’. Then, I pause, hand hovering over him, unsure if I dare write the words in my heart.

He opens his eyes, the intense blue of his irises honing in on me. “Devin?”

I cup his cheek and peck his lips. “I’m okay. Are you?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life. I need you, Devin. Please. Please make love to me.”

A damp spot forms on my underwear, where the head of my cock presses against the fabric. It cools instantly. Oh, fuck, I need him. I work hard to retain my cool exterior.

I arch an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” That’s what’s written around his hole, after all.

He whimpers and strains against the restraints. “Make love to me. Fuck me. I don’t care which. I need you.” His voice disintegrates into a desperate whine.

I write ‘make love to me’ down the inside of his left thigh, ensuring my knuckles graze his balls in the process. His cock jerks. He gasps.

“There’s one more thing I want to write.”

“Is there any space?”

“A little.”

I survey my work. It’s easy to see which words and phrases came first because the skin around them is no longer angry, red, or raised. I find a space close to his heart and write ‘I love you’ in tiny red letters.

I kiss him softly. “I’ve always loved you.”

Jools’s chin trembles. “I’ve always loved you, too.”

I nuzzle his jaw. “And now, beautiful, I’m going to make love to you.” I put my hand over one of the restraints.

He shakes his head. “Leave them. Please? I want to surrender to you completely.”

“You already have.”

“Please?”

Make love to him while he’s tied up and covered from neck to toe in words of love? “With pleasure.”