back to him, putting my hands on his face. I knew he did that sometimes, having had entire conversations with him when he was not awake.
“No, I….” He shivered and moved closer to me, his hands sliding over my hips. “Your dick is hard.”
Of course it was. I had just given my boyfriend a blowjob. “Never mind, what were you doing?”
“I fell asleep on the couch,” he said, fingers sliding around my painfully hard erection, “and I had a dream that you… this is like velvet in my hand.”
I couldn’t help pushing in and out of his fist; it felt too good.
“I was thinking that if I just put my name on you, marked you… branded you… that no one would ever be confused about who you belonged to.”
Instantly, I had understood.
We had been at a party earlier in the night. There was a girl who had asked me to dance and she was cute and funny. She had a snake tattoo on her upper arm, and I told her how much I liked it. She wanted to know if I had any tats, and when I said I did, she wanted to see. It was just conversation to me, forgettable. I had obliged her interest because it meant nothing, but it had meant something to Landry. It had, in fact, meant a great deal to Landry.
Later, the same girl had been cold outside where we were all hanging out on the patio. I had pulled the heavy wool sweater over my head and given it to her. She had put her hand on my back, tracing my tattoo the second time before she helped me pull my T-shirt down.
When I had gotten up and gone to look for my boy, as he had not returned from the bathroom, I found him in the hall, hugging himself tight, shivering hard.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, hands on him, leaning our foreheads together as I inhaled.
“Oh, now you love me?”
“What?” I chuckled, leaning back to look at him. “Are you all right?”
His eyes were dead.
“Landry?”
There were sudden tears.
“Oh baby, what’s wrong?”
And he had breathed suddenly, it seemed, like he hadn’t been but now could. I had pushed him up against the wall, shoved my tongue down his throat, and mauled him. I pressed into him, broke the kiss and bit down on the soft flesh between his neck and shoulder. He arched up into me, his now familiar chant beginning again.
Need me… over and over.
Always the same, like I didn’t already or could stop. And as I stood before him in our apartment later that same night, staring down into his hooded eyes, feeling the clench of his fingers on my hard, hot shaft as precum dribbled from the tip and he smeared it with this thumb, I understood. He didn’t just want to have his mark on me; it was a necessity for his continued sanity.
“Tomorrow,” I managed to get out. “Gonna go put you over my heart forever.”
The eyes were so lost and so hopeful, all at the same time.
“I swear,” I said, hand over my left pectoral. “Gonna have an L right here so everyone can see. An L for Landry.”
“On your body.”
“Yes.”
“Like a brand.”
I nodded.
He sucked in his breath. “Fuck me before I die.”
“You’re not gonna die.”
“I could. I thought I was. It felt like it before.”
Jesus. “I’ll get in bed, and you ride me.”
“No,” he whispered. “Wanna be fucked.”
I moved fast, grabbing the back of his neck, hurling him face down on the bed, landing on top of him, stretching for the lube from our nightstand even as I pinned him in place.
“You can’t do it,” he taunted me, and this too was his way. “You can’t fuck me, you don’t even want to. You want that girl that you gave your fuckin’ sweater to.”
The thoughts that consumed him were so stupid sometimes.
“We left without it, you know, and fuck her if she brings it back. Fuck her! I’ll burn it, I swear to God, and if you even try to—”
“Shut up,” I ordered him, spreading his legs, feeling the tension in his shoulders, the fatigue from where he had been clenched earlier, frozen in pleasure.
His hands were fisted in the
“No, I….” He shivered and moved closer to me, his hands sliding over my hips. “Your dick is hard.”
Of course it was. I had just given my boyfriend a blowjob. “Never mind, what were you doing?”
“I fell asleep on the couch,” he said, fingers sliding around my painfully hard erection, “and I had a dream that you… this is like velvet in my hand.”
I couldn’t help pushing in and out of his fist; it felt too good.
“I was thinking that if I just put my name on you, marked you… branded you… that no one would ever be confused about who you belonged to.”
Instantly, I had understood.
We had been at a party earlier in the night. There was a girl who had asked me to dance and she was cute and funny. She had a snake tattoo on her upper arm, and I told her how much I liked it. She wanted to know if I had any tats, and when I said I did, she wanted to see. It was just conversation to me, forgettable. I had obliged her interest because it meant nothing, but it had meant something to Landry. It had, in fact, meant a great deal to Landry.
Later, the same girl had been cold outside where we were all hanging out on the patio. I had pulled the heavy wool sweater over my head and given it to her. She had put her hand on my back, tracing my tattoo the second time before she helped me pull my T-shirt down.
When I had gotten up and gone to look for my boy, as he had not returned from the bathroom, I found him in the hall, hugging himself tight, shivering hard.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, hands on him, leaning our foreheads together as I inhaled.
“Oh, now you love me?”
“What?” I chuckled, leaning back to look at him. “Are you all right?”
His eyes were dead.
“Landry?”
There were sudden tears.
“Oh baby, what’s wrong?”
And he had breathed suddenly, it seemed, like he hadn’t been but now could. I had pushed him up against the wall, shoved my tongue down his throat, and mauled him. I pressed into him, broke the kiss and bit down on the soft flesh between his neck and shoulder. He arched up into me, his now familiar chant beginning again.
Need me… over and over.
Always the same, like I didn’t already or could stop. And as I stood before him in our apartment later that same night, staring down into his hooded eyes, feeling the clench of his fingers on my hard, hot shaft as precum dribbled from the tip and he smeared it with this thumb, I understood. He didn’t just want to have his mark on me; it was a necessity for his continued sanity.
“Tomorrow,” I managed to get out. “Gonna go put you over my heart forever.”
The eyes were so lost and so hopeful, all at the same time.
“I swear,” I said, hand over my left pectoral. “Gonna have an L right here so everyone can see. An L for Landry.”
“On your body.”
“Yes.”
“Like a brand.”
I nodded.
He sucked in his breath. “Fuck me before I die.”
“You’re not gonna die.”
“I could. I thought I was. It felt like it before.”
Jesus. “I’ll get in bed, and you ride me.”
“No,” he whispered. “Wanna be fucked.”
I moved fast, grabbing the back of his neck, hurling him face down on the bed, landing on top of him, stretching for the lube from our nightstand even as I pinned him in place.
“You can’t do it,” he taunted me, and this too was his way. “You can’t fuck me, you don’t even want to. You want that girl that you gave your fuckin’ sweater to.”
The thoughts that consumed him were so stupid sometimes.
“We left without it, you know, and fuck her if she brings it back. Fuck her! I’ll burn it, I swear to God, and if you even try to—”
“Shut up,” I ordered him, spreading his legs, feeling the tension in his shoulders, the fatigue from where he had been clenched earlier, frozen in pleasure.
His hands were fisted in the
Similar Books
