“Who’s the cat here?” I teased.

“Indulge me,” he requested quietly.

“Fine.”

One of his hands rested on my knee and started to lightly stroke it. “Earlier…” he began, nuzzling his head on my lap. “You seemed to like it when I touched your thighs.” His tone was making it clear that he wanted me to confirm or deny that statement, but I did neither, so he persisted. “Where else do you like to be touched?”

I sighed subtly, but otherwise ignored him.

“I’ll just have to try everywhere if you don’t tell me,” he resolved, rolling over so he was facing my stomach and slipping a hand up the front of my shirt. I twitched at the touch, once again seeming to totally forget what I was trying to hide from him.

His fingertips delicately danced over one of the scars on my chest and began circling my nipple, which had limited sensitivity after surgery but still enough that I noticed it being played with. He planted two or more kisses on my stomach before looking up at me expectantly, trying to gauge my reaction.

“Don’t look,” I ordered, covering his eyes with my hands, because I realised that from that angle he could probably see up my shirt.

“But I need to see if you’re enjoying yourself,” he reasoned, his hand moving to take a firm grasp on the side of my chest.

“I…” I breathed, probably about to tell him that I was enjoying myself very much. “I have weird looking nipples!” I spluttered, managing to push my horny needs back down and keep one or two wits about me… somehow. “I’m very insecure about them,” I elaborated. It wasn’t exactly a lie, so I think I managed to sound like I was honestly confiding in him and not deflecting.

“I don’t mind,” he assured earnestly. 

I flicked his forehead and pulled his arm out of my shirt. “I don’t care if you mind. I mind,” I declared, glaring down at him.

He smiled impishly as he tenderly stroked the place I’d flicked. “Let me kiss you,” he requested cutely.

“No way.”

“Okay, then you kiss me.”

“How is that different?”

“Good point. Let’s just kiss.”

“You’re incorrigible. Go to bed.” His face lit up at that. “Not with me. Go alone,” I elaborated sharply. I was against the kissing because I knew that if we started, I’d want to let him go further. I started mentally chanting “self restraint” to keep myself focused.

Duke relented and agreed to go to bed, giving my head a few pats before leaving.

I planned to stay up all night, but eventually ran out of cigarettes so decided to sleep. I’d been going in and out of his room several times over a few hours without hearing a peep from him, but I was prepared for him to suddenly wake up when I got into the bed. That time I got in from the side rather than the bottom, though he was once again right in the middle of the bed so I didn’t have much space.

When I lifted back the covers, I saw that he was shirtless. I couldn’t help comparing my chest to his, thus feeling totally inadequate and dejected.

I stared at his annoyingly perfect nipples with flaming jealousy after I crawled onto the bed. A few seconds later, he rolled onto his side and faced me. Without even looking at his face to see if he was really awake or merely tossing in his sleep, I moved closer and took his nipple in mouth, biting it.

He quivered, but rather than moving away or pushing me back, he knotted a hand in my hair to hold me in place. 

He made a deep moaning noise.

"Harder," he prompted, pulling my hair. I refused to accommodate that request because I already realised my folly with exciting him. And I wasn't fond of having my hair pulled.

But, instead of just stopping, I seemed to think that doing something softer would be a better retaliation. My logic was flawed, but it almost always is.

What I ended up doing was some overly sensual nipple play, finished by putting a massive hickey on his peck.

He was gasping and whimpering all the while. When I finally released him, he flopped onto his back, his chest heaving. Then he laughed.

"That's what I wanted to do to you," he told me with a satisfied smile.

"I know," I said, my breathing also a bit laboured from all the mouth work.

"But I can't?" He sounded weirdly innocent and childlike, saying that, making me hesitate in my response. "At least, not yet, right?"

"Uh… yeah," I agreed, somewhat uneasily.

"Okay, okay. I’ll wait,” Duke said indulgently. He took a deep breath and lifted the cover up to look down at his body. “But this can’t wait,” he breathed.

It took me a second to understand what he was getting at, but when I did I felt some sense of pride. It was always a bit of an ego boost for me when I gave a guy a boner.

I figured he would excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of it, but instead he rolled back to face me again.

“Is it okay if I…” he started blushing, “look at you while I do?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said casually. Since he wouldn’t be touching me, I didn’t see any reason why not to let him. It’s not like it would embarrass me. He was clearly embarrassed, though, and kept glancing at me then looking away. I watched him with cool eyes, which he probably enjoyed.

The faces he was making were quite nice: lewd, but in a reserved way. I ended up enjoying the view more than I thought I would, so when he seemed close to finishing I impulsively reached my hand down to help him out. He made a pretty cute gasp at that, and I’d barely been touching him for five seconds when he came.

While he tried to catch his breath, I reached into one of the drawers by the bed and took out some tissues to clean up with. I got out of bed to toss the tissues in a bin, and while I was up he asked me to get his cigarettes.

He looked like he was on cloud nine as he leaned against the railing of the balcony and smoked. He also handed me a cigarette, and I felt fine accepting it since I’d finished all of mine.

“I’m so happy,” he said wistfully, beaming at me.

“Cool,” I said flatly.