“Every time I come, you come,” Bade said.
“Yes.” Bade’s hair was so curly, Orinakin was fascinated. Tugging gently on a curl by Bade’s ear, he straightened it, then let go and watched it tighten back up.
“And every time you come, you come, obviously.”
“Yes.” His other hand strayed across Bade’s thigh. The dusting of short little curls down there intrigued him. Bade’s body was just…fascinating.
“Do you think that applies to everything we do?”
“What do you mean?” He asked in Nosupolin, even though they’d just been speaking Anorian. Languages came easily for him; Nosupolin rolled off of his tongue as naturally as any other. He liked the sound of Bade’s voice in Bade’s native tongue, with the rounded vowels and the hard consonants. Anorian was meant to flow; Nosupolin was a series of soft, cushy vowels brought up short by bulky, rocky consonants. Nosupolin words always sounded interrupted, to Orinakin’s ear.
“There are some, um, certain activities that would generally be more arousing for one of us than the other. Maybe, if we engaged in those activities, my orgasm wouldn’t trigger yours. If you’d like to try.”
Orinakin smiled, pausing in his admiration of the breadth of Bade’s shoulders to meet blue eyes and ask, “Is this your way of asking me for a blowjob?”
Turning an attractive shade of red, up his chest and over his cheeks, Bade said, “That’s one of the first activities that came to mind.”
The idea definitely appealed. He ran his hand up Bade’s thigh, letting his fingers trail over the rise of Bade’s arousal. “That sounds like a worthy experiment.” Bade made a small, eager sound, dick twitching at his touch. Smiling, Orinakin tossed his head to flip his hair back over one shoulder, leaning in to brush a light kiss over Bade’s cheek. “Tell me again,” he murmured, leaving another kiss by Bade’s ear, “about how the torture of my mouth would cripple a dozen men.”
