Page 38 of Playing with Fire

"Please," I whispered, beyond shame or hesitation.

Without warning, his tongue swept along the underside of my cock in one long, slow lick that had me arching off the bed. The wet heat of his mouth was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He took just the head between his lips, sucking lightly before pulling away, leaving the skin wet and glistening.

"Hold still," he commanded. "This will be... intense."

The first drop of wax landed exactly where his tongue had been, the sizzle of heat against cooling wetness making me cry out. The sensation was electric, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that set every nerve ending alight. Another drop followed, and another, dotting a line up the underside of my shaft.

"Xavier," I gasped, barely recognizing my own voice. "Fuck, I—"

"How does it feel?" he demanded, his own voice rough with arousal. "Tell me exactly what I'm doing to you."

"It's... everything," I managed, words fragmenting as my body shook with overwhelming sensation. "Burns but feels so good, like every nerve is firing at once, like I'm going to—oh god—"

Xavier's voice was low, a hint of amazement in it. "Are you going to come? That's fucking hot."

The words hung in the air between us, a confession I hadn't expected. Xavier admitting to being turned on by what we were doing together. It was something neither of us had anticipated when we'd started this exploration, a shift in how he understood his own sexuality.

"Fuck. I need…" He palmed himself through his jeans and met my eyes. "I want to come on you. I want to mark you with my cum. Cover you in it like I've covered you in wax."

"God, yes," I gasped, the words tumbling out before I could think. "Please, Xavier. I want that. I want to wear you on my skin like I'm wearing your wax."

Xavier's eyes darkened, surprise quickly giving way to hunger. Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down along with his boxers, freeing his cock. He was fully hard, the head flushed dark with arousal, pre-cum beading at the tip. The sight of him like this—aroused by me, by what we were doing together—sent another wave of heat through my body.

"You're my perfect fucking Leo," he growled, wrapping his hand around his length. "God, I've never wanted... Never wanted like this. Ever." His voice cracked slightly, frustration and desire warring in his expression. "I fucking want you, Leo. I don't even understand it, but I do."

“Please, Xavier, I need—I need to—"

"Then don’t hold back,” he panted, working his cock. “Come with me, Sunshine.”

My hand moved instinctively, wrapping around my aching cock as I watched Xavier touch himself. Our eyes locked as we stroked ourselves, my movements growing frantic as I chased my release. Xavier's rhythm matched mine, his breathing becoming ragged, pupils blown wide with desire. The sight of him touching himself while watching me, because of me, pushed me closer to the edge.

"Fuck," I gasped, feeling the pressure building, unstoppable now. "Xavier, I'm gonna—"

"Yes," he grunted, his voice rough and primal. "Fuck, Leo. That's so fucking hot."

My back arched off the bed as I came, a strangled cry tearing from my throat. My release shot across my stomach and chest in thick ropes, some landing on the cooled wax patterns Xavier had created. The pleasure was overwhelming, radiating from my core outward in waves that left me trembling and incoherent.

Xavier's eyes never left mine as his movements grew erratic, his control slipping. He made a deep, guttural sound as he came, his release landing hot and wet across my stomach and chest, mixing with my own and the patterns of wax he'd left on my skin.

"Fuck," he groaned, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Leo..."

Words seemed to fail him as he stared down at me, at the evidence of our mutual pleasure marking my body. I'd never seen him at a loss for words before, his usual quick wit deserting him as he processed what had just happened between us.

But then he suddenly tensed, his gaze fixed on the mess covering my stomach and chest. The slight grimace that crossed his face reminded me of how uncomfortable he was with bodily fluids. A lot had changed, but that hadn’t.

"Hold on," I said softly, reaching for the box of tissues on his nightstand. I quickly cleaned myself first, then grabbed fresh tissues and gently cleaned his hand as well. His eyes followed my movements, surprise evident in his expression.

"Thank you," he said quietly, a vulnerability in his voice I rarely heard. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine, a gesture more intimate than any kiss.

"I didn't know it could be like this," I admitted, feeling unexpectedly brave in the aftermath. "That pain could feel so fucking good. That it could feel like... worship, almost."

"I didn't either," he said, and I realized he wasn't talking about the pain. He was talking about us—about how I affected him. "You make me want things I never thought I could have, Leo. Things I never thought I deserved."

"Like what?"

His fingers traced my jaw, thoughtful and assessing. "Like... connection. Something beyond control and submission. Something I don't have words for yet."

The raw honesty in his voice made something in my chest expand. This wasn't Xavier the vigilante or Xavier the dominant. This was just Xavier, trying to navigate unfamiliar emotional territory without his usual certainty.

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