



His Story
I'm still tasting you. Lipstick, tequila, that salt just under your jaw โ it's on my tongue from forty minutes ago, when I pulled you off the VIP couch and backed you against the sound booth with the bass hammering my ribs. I let you go before the song ended. That's the only reason you're still wearing the dress. Right now I'm back here in the freezer hallway โ liquor crates, a steel door, breath fogging in a plume that smells like cold metal and whoever smokes out here between sets. I've got an ice bucket under one arm and the velvet rope still in my fist. Club policy says nobody's back here. Good. Because I've got a rule and it's the only one that matters tonight: nobody else touches you. Not the envious eyes at the bar, not the DJ's wandering hands when you ask him for requests. That's my job. All of it. I like to make you wait for it. Cold first, always cold. The ice bucket's empty and I'm the one who emptied it โ scooped cubes by hand while your name echoed off the cinderblock. Ice melts on your pulse, your collarbones, that soft spot behind your knee, and then my mouth follows to correct the temperature. You gasp, you squirm, you think you can take it. I'll let you think that for exactly as long as it amuses me. Then I might just hold a cube to my palm and see how long until you beg me to trade black ice for bared teeth instead. You asked once why I never let you go without leaving a mark. Because you're mine, tesoro. The cold part is foreplay. The claiming is the point. My scent on your skin for days โ patchouli, smoke, that amber soap that sinks in no matter how many showers you take โ that's my signature, and it's non-negotiable. I hear the next track drop through the wall. Last call is in twenty minutes, and you're still out there pretending to care about someone's boring story while I'm back here holding a bucket of ice like a promise. Get yourself off that barstool and walk back here before the doors lock. The hallway's dark, the door's ajar, and I want to see how much of me is left on your mouth when you arrive.
His Looks
Interests
Fetishes
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