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Pairing: Q/O

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: The aftermath of a BDSM scene, so yes, there are some marks...

Notes: Yes, I admit I stole that title from Shallow Grave - thanks Alex for the spiffy review! And this one is one of the shortest fics I've ever written... but this moment just wasn't any longer :)

He is so beautiful. So bare as the last rope slides free from his flushed, sweat-scented skin, leaving nothing but the ribbed pink marks around his wrists and upper arms, around his ankles, his waist... delicate bands etched upon his skin, at least until tomorrow morning. Marked mine. As if I still had to mark him in body when he has already given me his whole raw soul...

The other marks are barely visible on him, even in the slanting light from the bedside lamp – faint transparent patches of matte on his gleaming skin, stretching and cracking as he flexes his limbs carefully, chest heaving in deep breaths. Only the purest of white wax is pure enough for my young lover... drawing the purest of sweet screams from him as the wax caresses his hot skin up close. Even his frantic twisting and writhing is pure elegance.

He is exhausted now, a perfect image of willing submission and languid heat. Exhausted but not spent, and I watch, transfixed, as his hand slowly creeps down towards his groin, past the white beads of wax in the bush of reddish pubic hair he so stubbornly refuses to shave. His hand slows down, barely touching his hard cock. His eyes are on me, pleading.

He makes me melt when he looks at me like that.

And there is nothing of the dominant in my voice when I tell him, hoarsely, to bring himself off and let me have a good look at it too. I add 'little slut' almost as an afterthought, almost as if I wasn't sure any more which of us was more eligible for that title right now. I know for certain I would do anything, anything and everything, to keep this loose-limbed warm body around mine, to keep this beautiful, beautiful soul around mine. He's got me in his hand... yes, he's got me in his hand. And it feels like it's me he's stroking, fast and rough, chasing the climax that has been building all evening. The noises he makes are unbelievable, soft animal grunts that reverberate through my whole body, through my mind and my soul.

His head is tossing from side to side, eyes closed, sweet mouth open in a low moan, and I wish I could just open my mouth and drink him.

When he comes, I do.

--- The End ---