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With his mouth.
And so, it shall be. He reclined on my bed. On his back. Vulnerable. His wrists strapped down, spread far from his body. His ankles, still in those boots I find so irresistible, spread equally, locked down.
A tight black t-shirt. Black jeans. A belt -- hanging open a little, the buckle silver.
And a tight black velvet blindfold.
His eyes protested when I brought it out. But I said, softly, "All you need is your mouth."
And he nodded. Swallowed. Closed those innocent eyes.
And was gone.
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