Page 160 of My Skin Begs You Please

“Fairy,” he inserted.

“—fairy—”

“Prince.”

“—fairy prince I’ve ever seen. There’s no one as beautiful as you.”

Minty was straining toward orgasm now, his chest and cheeks pink and his eyes shiny. “I love you,” I went on, spilling compliments as quickly as I could think of them. “You’re so good, and sweet, and sexy. You’re my favorite person in the world. And I especially love when you get all flushed and shaky when you’re about to blow your—ahhh!” I laughed, diving down to swallow his jizz as it flew from his dick.

His hands clutched at my hair and he convulsed, moaning and quivering. “I’m beautiful. I’m a fairy prince,” he murmured as he twitched through the aftershocks. “I’m your god.”

Afterward, once he’d slumped back, boneless, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, adjusted my dick in my pants, and moved to scoop him up into my arms. He wasn’t as light as he looked, but I could handle it.

“Tell me that I’m a good boy.”

“You’re such a good boy, Mitchell.”

“That’s right,” he said imperiously, even as his eyelids drifted shut. I cradled him to my chest. “But it’s Your Majesty.”

“Right. You’re a good boy, Your Majesty.”

“I should punish you tomorrow for calling me the wrong thing.” His brow furrowed as he pondered what punishment I might deserve. Then he sighed. “I have a lot to deal with in the morning actually, so maybe the next day. But don’t worry, you’ll be punished for sure.”

“Happily, Your Majesty.”

“You won’t be happy when I make you clip, file, and paint my toenails.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Because I’m in charge.”

“Yes, you’re my fairy prince, my beautiful little god.”

He smiled. “I like that.” Then he pressed his head to my chest, held onto me, and said as I carried him upstairs, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, Your Majesty. I love you.”

Lightness grew in my chest around my heart. This wasn’t what I’d expected tonight, and it seemed like it wasn’t what he’d envisioned either, but somehow it felt deeply right and true. As if the Minty at his core, the undamaged, beautiful, wonderful, fantastical man he was always supposed to be had surfaced in our play, ready to grow and heal.

“I love you,” I panted as I reached the stairs up to the bedroom. “I’ll carry you anywhere.”

“You will,” he agreed. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Okay.”

“I love you too,” he said, as I put my back into getting him up the next flight. “But you’ll still have to paint my toenails. I bought a new shade of pink.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I was huffing and puffing and sweating a little from the effort as I deposited him onto my bed. Hands on my knees, catching my breath, I turned toward the bathroom.

“Use the lavender scented stuff,” he called out.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

When I came to collect him for the bubble bath I’d prepared, he was asleep. His blond lashes lay on his pale cheek, his pink lips were open in a small O, and every bit of worry and fear had drained out of his expression. I couldn’t bear to wake him, so I tucked his naked body beneath the blankets, kissed his cheek, set the alarm for his therapist appointment in the morning, and went to bathe myself. Afterward, I climbed in beside him.

I vowed I’d protect him from this night on.

I’d never wanted a new boy, but I had one. The best boy. The boy to end all boys. I’d protect him forever, whatever it took. I’d call him Your Majesty and serve as his willing bodyguard until the end of time, until we both died—however soon that day came. No matter what, I’d make him feel loved, and I’d keep him safe.

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