"Such a good boy."
I whimpered as you dragged your fingernails down my chest.
"Awww, is this too much for you?" You asked, a smug smile spread across your face.
I shook my head in denial.
"Good," you responded, sinking your nails in deeper. You stroked my chest with your hands, now freshly marked with deep red scratches. "You look so pretty with those marks, Michael."
I shuddered at those words, flattered, and aroused in anticipation of what would come next.
You bent down and pushed your mouth into mine. You took my lip between your teeth and bit down, causing me to moan and squirm.
You kissed down to my neck, and bit down with all of your might, and a hungry fire in your eyes. Pain shot through my skin and a moan escaped my lips. My skin stung as you removed your mouth. You rubbed your fingers over it, as if to sooth it.
"Don't worry darling," you whispered, "by the time we're done you'll have so many marks that everyone will know you're mine."
I couldn't help but let out a pleasured groan at that sentence, thinking of you marking me over and over.
You ran your hand over my mouth gently, and then, catching me off guard, forced a thumb into my mouth. I could taste the salt of sweat on it as it pushed past my teeth and onto my tongue.
"Such a cute little mouth, and it's all mine."
You pushed your pointer and forefingers in to join your thumb, forcing my mouth wider open. Your fingers danced in my mouth and started to push deeper towards my throat. You pushed your fingers in as deep as you could, reaching into the top of my throat. My breathing increased as you moved your fingers forwards and backwards, in and out of my throat. My eyes watered as you pulled them out of my mouth.