Page 12 of Lucky or Knot
He stayed almost perfectly still while I unbuttoned his pants, only lifting his hips slightly as I tugged them out from under his ass to peel them down and then set them on the nearby chair. The black silk boxer briefs I revealed were way more brief than boxer. They probably had less fabric in them than the G-string I’d worn on stage earlier. His cock and balls filled them out nicely, especially in proportion to his stature.
But what really took me off guard, probably because the Lucky or Knot guys all shaved, waxed, and tanned within an inch of their lives (and I did the first two myself), was the contrast between his snow-white magically perfect skin and the silky dusting of jet-black hair on his calves. I hadn’t imagined that a fae would have any body hair at all, somehow.
It only made him more delicious, that contrast between his willowy delicacy and feminine grooming, and the clear masculinity hidden away beneath his odd, androgynous clothing.
But it really didn’t matter either way. If he’d been bright purple and covered with scales under his pants I might’ve been into it, because at this point, I’d gone so far past arousal that I’d turned the corner and entered another realm. My cock had settled into a resigned holding pattern, and the world had closed down to my immediate sensory inputs: the fairy’s quick shallow breaths, the hard floor beneath my knees, not padded at all by the room’s cheap carpeting, the way the low-watt light bulbs cast murky shadows on the man spread out half-naked in front of me. Even the bad lighting couldn’t dim his radiance, though.
His lookshadto be an illusion. Right? And this stabbing, desperate sensation in my lower belly when I focused on him, the result of magic?
Well, fuck it, I’d enjoy it while it lasted. And get paid forthe privilege. I’d chosen this with my eyes open, after all.
He lifted his hips to let me get his underwear down, too, and then pulled out his feet one at a time, knees bending up toward his ears.
Oh, and that was—I tossed the boxer briefs vaguely in the direction of the chair, unable to give a fuck about taking care of his clothes anymore.
He tried to put his legs back down, but my hands landed on the backs of his thighs, and I wrenched him open again, his knees framing his indignant face. Not that I was looking at his face, gorgeous as it might be. My eyes had been riveted a lot lower, where plump balls hung down and almost obscured his pretty pink hole, and his straight, slim cock stood up at a sharp angle, the head thick and juicy and a slightly darker shade of rose than his lips.
My own blood throbbed in my ears, a whooshing that eclipsed anything else. My mouth watered. I had to taste—
“No!” A sharp pain bloomed in the side of my head, and I jumped and looked up, assisted along by the fairy’s punishing grip on my ear.
Everything flashed back into focus. He was panting, and I’d gotten about a breath away from swallowing his cock. The scent of him rose up around me, heady and musky and sweet, almost overwhelming. Pure sex and desire, but still with that achingly familiar, comforting overtone that had short-circuited my brain back at the club.
“No,” he said again, more gently, as I blinked at him. His fingers didn’t relax their grip, though, and my ear had gone numb. “Don’t do that.”
“You,” I tried, and had to swallow. My mouth had gone so dry, and my voice came out husky. “I’m not expecting you to reciprocate.”
“Don’t. I mean it. It’s not about that. Fuck and knot me.You shouldn’t even have kissed me, but that’ll wear off, I think.” He shook his head. “Keep your mouth to yourself and do what I hired you to do.”
That’dwear off? Hethought? The fuck did that even mean? Even if I really wanted to know, I for sure knew he wouldn’t answer me if I wasted my time asking. Fairy magic. I couldn’t even. No names, no kissing, no cock sucking, no fucking him with my tongue, no guarantee that I wouldn’t wake up in the morning in the body of a diseased frog. Don’t worry, it’ll wear off! Fuck me.
“Fine,” I said, declining to argue about it. Now that I’d snapped out of it—and to be fair, he’d been the one to do it—my single-minded focus on getting him in my mouth had been a bit unsettling, hadn’t it? “I’ll fuck you and knot you. No more kissing.” He stared at me, unmoving. “You can let go of my ear before you rip it off, if you don’t mind.”
At last he released my stinging ear and lay back down, something wary and cloudy in the depths of those dark eyes.
In my turn, I let go of his legs and allowed his feet to thump down to the bed.
When I stood up and started to get my clothes off, he lay still, his eyes gleaming from under half-lowered lids with his long eyelashes shadowing their expression. Being watched like this was completely different from being watched on stage, and even different from doing a private dance. Loud music set a certain type of mood, and—well, his attention simply felt different. I hadn’t been self-conscious about taking my clothes off ever, really, and certainly not since I started at Lucky or Knot.
But I almost started to blush under his steady gaze, and my skin was almost as pale as his. It’d show. Hopefully he’d think I was turned on and overheated instead of embarrassed and weirdly shy.
My shirt landed on the heap on the chair with his stuff,and I crouched down to untie my boots.
“Take your shirt off,” I said.
I’d have preferred to slowly strip it off myself, but I knew without asking that wouldn’t be welcome.
What had changed? Something had changed between when I started taking his clothes off and now. His mood had shifted, from that odd bravado he’d had at first into this pensive silence. My intention of putting him in his place a bit didn’t feel appropriate anymore—if that word could’ve been applied at all.
He hesitated, but then he pushed up, unbuttoned his collar, and whipped the shirt over his head, keeping a perfect angle with his torso in an impressive display of core strength that would’ve had any yoga teacher drooling.
It had me drooling, too, only probably not for the same reasons. Christ, I wished we were here for fun and not for a transaction. I’d put him on top and make him work for it.
He lay back, completely bare. No hair on his chest, but a silky thatch peeked out under his arms. Maybe I’d get a chance to lick him there, at least, if not between his legs. And fairies did indeed have navels. Also nipples, small and pointed and nearly as pale as the rest of his skin.
“Do you want me to get myself ready?” he said. “Or do you prefer to—oh, lords of the air,” he choked, gratifyingly wide-eyed, as I shoved my jeans and that G-string I hadn’t bothered to change out of down to the floor.
Of course I wanted to get him ready. Fuck him slowly with my fingers, kiss him until he writhed underneath me, all red-cheeked and needy…
