Watching Him Back

"Ow, ow, ow, okay," Crispin's muffled voice protests. He pushes me off of his chest and raises his arm to look down at the bright reddish purple circle. "Damn, I think you got the muscle."

I dip my finger into his navel, amused at how quickly he shivers and knocks my hand away. "A little something to remember me by."

"That's just mean. You don't have one."

I step back so he can see me adjusting my half-hard cock in my jeans. "You can make up for it later."

Pulling his shirt down, Crispin glares at me. "It's not a favor, jerk. It's a fucking Property Of stamp."

Damn straight. I love how he can't quite figure out how to act. He glances at me and drops his head, gets down from the cabinets and starts walking towards me, changes his mind and goes to the projector, then looks back at me again. Knowing that I can have that kind of effect on someone I like is a powerful aphrodisiac. Had Crispin any less control, had he hesitated one second longer, I would have pulled him back and play out one of those fantasies. As it is he tucks his t-shirt back into his shorts, mumbles, "Er, Friday it is there, buddy," and opens the door.

"I'm watching your ass," I say in response as he wheels the projector out of the room. Crispin acknowledges that by doing a ridiculous booty bounce while whistling "Single Ladies," and I start laughing again. Three days is a long time until Friday.