Silver-Tipped Justice(25)

Tim went slack jawed as Kontra did just that. Kontra wrapped one arm around Tim’s torso to hold him steady, then started pulling, twisting, and pinching Tim’s sensitive buds. “We should get these pierced, my mate,” Kontra stated. “Think how much pleasure I could give you then.”

Soft whimpers and gasps escaped Tim’s lips every time Kontra moved his cock over Tim’s spongy sweet spot or when he tweaked his mate’s nipple. Releasing the love bite he was sucking up behind Tim’s ear, Kontra looked down his lover’s body so he could watch his actions. He splayed his fingers over Tim’s flat stomach, using the tips of his fingers to tease the sensitive skin around the base of his dick, sinking his fingers into Tim’s bush and massaging.

“You’re cock is weeping for me, Tim,” he commented throatily, eying his lover’s oozing slit. “So red, so shiny. I remember how you taste,” he crooned. “Salty, bitter ambrosia.” He made certain as he spoke, his warm breath swept over the sensitive hairs of Tim’s neck.

Tim whimpered. His dick jerked and bobbed, standing straight out from his body, leaked like a sieve. Kontra loved the affect his words had on his mate. Wanting to see more, to see him come, Kontra continued, “I bet your balls feel hard as rocks, don’t they, Tim.”

Tim’s throaty moan seemed to be one of agreement.

“You gonna come for me, Tim?” Kontra purred the question. “You gonna spray your seed all over the sheets. Come on, honey,” he urged. “Let me see it.”

He accompanied his words with a sharp twist to Tim’s nipple.

Tim’s back bowed and a howl of pleasure escaped him. Kontra watched with satisfaction as Tim shot his load, spraying the sheets with pearly liquid, just like he’d predicted. The tightening of Tim’s anus around his cock almost had Kontra losing his own battle for control.

Needing something to focus on other than the hot, exquisite pressure on his cock, Kontra grabbed Tim’s dick and milked it. When Tim whined and shuddered against him, telling him his mate’s penis had reached the hypersensitive stage, Kontra released the flagging flesh.

Needing his own orgasm like he needed his next breath, Kontra wrapped both arms around his lover, tilted their hips, and started a punishing rhythm of thrust and retreat. He knew it wouldn’t take long. He already hung onto the edge by a thread. Less than a moment later, Kontra’s balls pulled tight to his body.

“Now, you’re going to come again,” Kontra vowed.

Without waiting for a response, Kontra sank his canines into his mate’s shoulder. The sweet taste of Tim’s blood flowed over his tongue, making Kontra moan and his hips stuttered in their movement.

Tim’s body bowed again, once more tensing in his arms. His lover’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Kontra growled against the flesh in his mouth and let the heady pleasure of orgasm crash through him. His seed erupted from his cock head, soaking his mate’s passage. Pleasure, even surpassing that caused by his release, filled Kontra at marking his mate so intimately.

It had pained him to claim his mate as he’d done, and prayed thanks to whatever gods who cared to listen that Tim didn’t seem to hold it against him. This time around Kontra had given his mate as much pleasure as he could.

Rubbing his face against his lover again, Kontra enjoyed the sensation. He liked it even better when Tim hummed his approval and squeezed his thigh. Pressing a quick kiss to Tim’s claiming mark, Kontra eased out of his lover, then settled Tim comfortably on the bed. He spooned up behind Tim, cradling him to his chest.

Tim was the first to speak. “So, your bear. The tattoo doesn’t look complete somehow,” Tim mused a bit drowsily, looking over his shoulder at Kontra.

Smiling, Kontra replied, “Good eye. I actually had it drawn so his head would be resting on top of an owl, but since I didn’t know what your owl looked like, I planned to wait and finish it when I saw you.”

“And the owl would be inked over your heart.”

Kontra nodded at Tim’s words.

“But I’m not an owl,” Tim whispered.

Cupping Tim’s jaw, Kontra gently urged him to turn his head and look at him. “That doesn’t matter to me, you know. Perhaps we’ll find something else to put there. Your familiar, perhaps,” he teased, trying to lighten Tim’s suddenly somber mood.

It worked. Tim snorted and grinned at him. “I don’t have a familiar.”

“I know,” Kontra said. “We’ll worry about how to finish the tattoo another time.” He tightened his hold. “First, a nap. Then, we’ll help the guys finish packing your house.”