Page 60 of Fruit
“Yeah.”
“Something you don’t want to forget?”
“Something I wouldn’t be able to, even if I wanted.”
“Do all of your tattoos mean something? As in, are any of them, you know, impulsive tattoos after a night out?” I ask, even though that doesn’t seem like him at all.
“Yeah, they all mean something. It’s been a while since I got drunk, and getting stuck with needles wasn’t really what I thought about when I did.”
“What about the tiger and the snake? The ones on your forearms.”
“Those were…I guess it’s just about the fight, you know? Not violence, but the struggle that’s inherent in most things.”
“The fight for survival.”
“Yeah. Or for the things you want. That you feel you need in your life.”
I nod pensively. “It’d be pretty cool to be a tattoo artist. I mean, not everybody gets tattoos because they ‘mean something’. Obviously some people get tattoos just to get them, impulsively or because they want art on their skin, but it’d still be cool to think your art would live on the skin of a person until they died, you know?”
“Yeah. Although, a lot of people think of tattoos as permanent, but they’re not, really. They last only as long as you do.”
“Yeah. It almost makes it more poignant.”
“Yeah. It does.”
Sebastián has to work on a few things for the youth club in anticipation of the coming Monday, and I sketch as he taps away on his laptop. I draw him, of course, and Nina too, my two favourite subjects. I draw him as he is now, sitting on the couch, but how he looked last night, too. There on the floor, on his knees, head between my thighs and looking up at me in a way I could paint a hundred years from now without having forgotten a single detail.
He catches sight of my drawing when he’s done with work, and he pushes me down on the couch, kissing me.
“I’m keeping that one,” he says.
“It’s mine!”
He huffs against my lips. “I’d ask you to draw yourself, but you wouldn’t paint yourself as I see you,” he says and then kisses any response I might have been able to come up with away.
“I’ll give you a mental picture instead.”
We get into the same position as yesterday, but this time I’m the one with my knees on the floor and holding all the power while he sits naked on the couch. I lick the head of his cock, teasing him like he did me. Normally, I’d insist on condoms for this, but I trust him when he tells me he’s clean. Sebastián isn’t the kind of guy to take chances with that kind of stuff.
Giving blowjobs is a real hit-and-miss for me in terms of how much I like it. In theory, I find it pretty hot, even though the practicalities of it can get a little tedious. But there’s something about not being able to breathe easily and the gagging and the way guys can thrust in or grab my hair without asking me first that can be extremely irritating. When I trust the guy as I do Sebastián, though, when I’m this desperate to see them fall apart, when they make noises like Sebastián does, when I want them as much as I do him…it’s pretty fucking fun. And, damn, do I like an uncut dick.
Sebastián is already fully hard, and I suck on the sensitive head of his cock, running my tongue over his foreskin. I don’t even have to hold him down, his thighs shaking as he stops himself from moving, and a rush of want hits me.
I slide my mouth down, taking him in. He’s too big to fit completely without deep-throating him, and I want to save that little surprise for later. I wrap a hand around the base of his dick and jerk him off in time with my mouth. He squirms and pants on the couch, and I’d be smirking if I could.
I take one of his balls in my free hand and massage him slowly as I slide up and down his cock. He moans, gripping the back of my neck. He doesn’t push or pull me anywhere, just clings on like he needs the anchor. I hum around him and while he’s busy groaning, I relax my throat and take him down.
“Oh, fuck.Fuck,” Sebastián moans as I swallow around him, deep in my throat. My eyes water a little but I ignore them, coming up when I can’t hold my breath anymore.
I pull off completely just to be a tease, giving him little licks which avoid his sensitive head. He looks down at me and I smirk before opening my mouth and dragging the head of his cock against the flat of my tongue.
“Jesus Christ. Now I know what you mean about the benefits of sexy pictures,” he says. I laugh.
“Mmm, baby,” I say in an exaggerated tone and take him into my mouth again before he can respond.
I keep my eyes up on his face as I work him over. He looks completely lost in the sensations of his body, of what I decide to give him and when. His hand runs through my hair gently even in the midst of that, and even with his dick in my mouth I still want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
I can tell when he approaches the edge. His hips start shifting, his pants growing louder and more erratic.
