Page 59 of Sapphire Spring

“You are, but you gotta do it naked.”

It was cute. It was sweet.

It was not what Naser wanted.

In the bathroom, Mason had promised him something edgier andsharper, and Naser was determined to collect.

Mason reached for Naser’s cock, but he batted his hand away.

He backed up, staring into Mason’s eyes, kicking his briefsand shorts down off his feet. Tugging his T-shirt over his head, revealing thedowny black hair across his chest, the hair so many men had pressured him towax or shave because it didn’t fit with their porn-driven conception of what apocket-gay sizedtwinkshould be—porpoise smooth,more cartoon than man. He’d never caved to that pressure, and now MasonWorther, the last man in the world he would have expectedto admire his natural body, was staring at him—all of him—with open-moutheddesire.

Slowly, Naser sank to his knees on the carpet.

Mason smiled, expecting anotherblow job,he was sure.

Fat chance, golden boy.

Naser beckoned for him to close the distance.

Mason started forward, proud cock bobbing in the air infront of him.

Naser ignored it, slid his hands around the back of one ofMason’s hard thighs, and licked the front of his quad, nibbling it. Kept goingdown the leg, down his hair-dusted shin. The effort forced him to poke his assout further behind him as he went, which made him feel delightfully exposed. Hecouldn’t see Mason’s reactions, but he could hear them. Grunts of surprise thatturned to gasps of pleasure as Naser’s hands squeezed and caressed in search ofthe most sensitive spots along the arch, the ankles, the sides of the heels.

Then, a long, wet lick from one big toe and across the veinyarch of his giant right foot.

At the base of the ankle, a little nip. Hard enough to leaverosy marks, but light enough for them to quickly fade.

Same thing on the other, kneading, listening for thetell-tale responses from above. Then once he’dmade anassessment ofboth feet—both big, beautiful, veiny feet—Naser sat backonto his haunches, gazing up. He saw anticipation and confusion on Mason’sface, but mostly hunger.

Perfect.

Bambi eyes was Connor’s term for the pleading and submissiveexpression Naser gave off when trying to get his way with a single look. Inthis moment, it meant submission by design.

Slowly, Naser sank back onto the carpet, shifting so that helay parallel to Mason’s feet, gazing up at the man now like a tourist sprawledon his back to better study a fresco on the museum ceiling above. Then, Nasergripped MasonWorther’sleft ankle and used it togently place the man’s foot on his throat.

Jesusfuck,was Mason’s first thought.

This was a test. A test he was desperate to pass.

One careless shift of weight, one wild, uncontrolled spasmof desire and Naser could get hurt. Badly hurt. No way would Mason have everattempted something this aggressive without an explicit invite. But Naser hadpositioned him this way as if he were a mannequin, and his two-handed grip onhis calf remained confident. A safety valve if anything went wrong.

And then came a tap.

A single tap.

A tap that meantkeep going.

Slowly, gently, Mason pressed his foot down on Naser’sthroat. He had no frame of reference for how much pressure to apply. And thatwas part of it, he realized. He was forced to move like molasses, followNaser’s cues. Forced to read every flicker in Naser’s eyes, which stared up athim with hunger and challenge and anger glazed in lust. Forced to closely readevery inch of Naser’s body for a response, a sign that it was not enough or toomuch or just enough or heaven.

He stopped, assuming he was in danger of choking off Naser’sair flow.

One tap.

Keep going.

Naser’s cock glistened, rock hard and bouncing against hisstomach, brown shaft slicked with pre-cum. An undeniable testament to how badlyhe wanted this.

Mason applied more pressure, pressure that made Naser’s eyesroll back into his head as he bit his lower lip. Mason had been with guys whoseemed to go limp as soon as Mason had their way with them. He’d never seen anact of submission light up a body like it was lighting up Naser Kazemi’s now.It was the first time he’d seen surrender make a man writhe.

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