Page 36 of Viking Ink

“My cock, Daddy,” he blurted out. “I need your mouth on my cock.”

“Perfect answer. I’m proud of you, baby.” I gently pumped his cock once more before I brought my mouth down on its rosy crown. I lapped at the crown gently, enjoying finally getting to taste my boy.

It was perfect.

I focused on bringing Rhys the most pleasure I could. I wanted this, like all the firsts we would share together, to be unforgettable. I let the fingers of my free hand trace up and down the skin of his inner thigh, then gently stroke the soft flesh of his balls as I mouthed and licked at his gorgeous cock.

The needy whimpers and sighs that fell from Rhys’s lips were like the best aphrodisiac I’d ever taken. My own cock felt like an iron bar trapped in my sleep pants, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel Rhys fall apart in my hands.

My fingers glided down the soft skin of his perineum as I lapped greedily at his cock. I’d always loved giving head and prided myself on having the gag reflex of a sword swallower, and from the choked off sounds Rhys made as his cock nudged the back of my throat, I was successfully blowing his mind.

I tapped my index finger gently against the sweet furl of muscle, aware Rhys had never been touched here—not pushing to penetrate, but to just get my sweet boy used to the feeling. His legs spread wider, and he let out a soft, breathy moan. I didn’t press for entrance, just rested my fingertip against his pucker. I could feel the faint tremors in his muscles. He was close.

Lifting my mouth from Rhys’s cock, I smiled at his dreamy expression. “Come anytime you want, baby bear.”

Rhys whimpered softly, arching under my hands. “Thank you, Daddy.”

I went back to rocking my boy’s world. I took him into my mouth, sucking on the crown, letting my tongue play along the slit, which had Rhys gasping, and a whispered, “Fuck,” slipped out as he came. My sweet boy was so far gone he didn’t even blush as the swear word fell from his lips, and more followed as I swallowed and licked him clean, reluctant to waste even a drop of his come. I couldn’t get enough of the taste, and I licked and sucked until my baby bear was an oversensitive mess beneath me.

Lifting up on my elbows, I used my free hand to push my sleep pants down, freeing my aching cock. I needed to come, and I was sure it wouldn’t take more than a few strokes to have me finish.

I gasped when I felt Rhys’s slim fingers join mine. His beautiful blue eyes were blown wide, his smile dopey and come-drunk. “Let me help, Daddy.”

I nodded, not sure I could talk with the emotions welling up inside me. His touch was nervous at first, but I wrapped my fingers loosely around, showing how I liked to be touched. A small smile crossed Rhys’s face when he tightened his grip as he stroked up my shaft. The smile grew when I groaned as he let his thumb play with my slit. Getting bolder, he increased his strokes, bringing his other hand up to run through my hair. His touch was so innocent, but so amazingly erotic. My balls pulled up, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I came.

“I want to see you come, Daddy. Please come for me?” Rhys’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the words were like a bolt of lust to my groin. My dick throbbed as fire raced up my spine, and I came with a growl and a grunt between us.

Rhys giggled, a playful sound, as he brought up his come-covered fingers to his mouth, his eyes sparkling with joy. I watched transfixed as he darted his pale pink tongue out and licked my come from his fingers. Jesus. Refractory period be damned—I could come again just from watching my dirty boy do that.

We traded lazy, satisfied kisses until I noticed Rhys’s nose wrinkle up. “What’s wrong, baby bear.”

“Coming is fun, but the sticky side, not so much.” He wrinkled his nose again, and I couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him on it.

“Come on, baby bear. Shower, then breakfast.”

“Together?” Rhys asked, smiling shyly. Now the haze of lust had lifted, my shy boy was back—and he was fucking adorable.

“Would you like that?” I kissed his cheek, watching his expression. Rhys wore his thoughts and emotions plainly on his face. His cheeks pinked up and he smiled at me.

“Yes, please.”

I sat up, not bothering with clothes, and pulled Rhys up with me, leading him through to the bathroom. I sat him on the closed toilet while I set about getting the shower warm. The room quickly filled with steam. I extended a hand to Rhys, and he stood and came closer.

Brushing a kiss to his temple, I led him under the running water. Grabbing the fresh washcloth, I soaped it up and started washing him. Rhys rested against the wall and let me wash his back and legs, letting out a soft giggle when I ran the cloth along his crack and balls.

“Daddy! You do that and I’ll get hard again,” he whispered against the tiles.

A faint blush fanned down his shoulders and neck. I was tempted to kiss it away, but that would only lead us to losing more time—in a thoroughly satisfying way, I was sure, but I wanted to sit down and talk to Rhys. We needed to plan how we would explore his little side—together.

Managing to wash my boy without giving into temptation was proving to be a test of my willpower, especially when he turned around and gave me the cheekiest grin. I didn’t want to quash this new playfulness that Rhys was showing. It was endearing, and charming in ways I couldn’t quite explain.

When Rhys reached down to stroke himself, I gave a mock growl and tapped his butt lightly, which earned a sharp, indrawn breath.

Oh, my baby liked that?

I filed that information away for later.

“None of that baby bear. Who does that belong to?” I reached down, gripping his erection lightly in my soapy fist. Rhys’s eyes grew large, and for a moment I worried I had gone too hard, but the breathy sound that escaped my boy eased my fear.

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