Good Boys Get Rewarded.

                                        

                                              
CHAPTER; 37
*
Angel.
The act of him coaxing me to eat, and then feeding me shouldn't have been erotic. But fuck, it was.
Desire built slowly in my veins as I leaned forward and sucked his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the pad as I sucked greedily.
I saw how his whole body stiffened, in surprise maybe, and his chest rose sharply.
I was tired of fighting, if I'm being honest. I was tired of pretending that I didn't want this.
At this point in my life, it seemed like there was absolutely no one left in my corner, except him. And since he wanted to stake a claim over me, maybe it was time I stop fighting it and just let him.
He finally pulled his hand away, but not before a shudder racked his body and I licked my lips slowly, watching him lose composure little by little.
His pupils were blown wide with desire, and he was breathing hard, like I had knocked the air out of his lungs.
He picked up the fork again, trying to feed me, but I shook my head and said, "I'm full."
He carefully set the plate on the coffee table and turned his full attention back to me. His hands came up, cupping my face, his touch soft and almost reverent.
For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, and I wanted him to. It was torture seeing him in front of me and within reach, and not being able to do what I wanted.
But the mask covering his face was in the way and I could see the struggle in his eyes as his fingers drifted up to the strap of the mask.
He wanted to take it off for me. He was ready to reveal everything but I caught his wrist before he could.
"Leave it on," I said, my voice low and rough.
Conflicted emotions flashed across his face, but he nodded obediently.
It was a good thing that he was obedient because I wasn't ready to know who he was. Yup, I might as well be the most confused man in the world but not yet.
I still wanted to exist in our little bubble, or maybe, I was just scared of what I'll be forced to do if I knew who he was.
I curled my hand behind his head and leaned in, my lips latching onto the side of his neck. He groaned desperately as I sucked, nipped, and bit, marking him openly.
He smelled like soap and cologne, and my cock throbbed painfully against my pants as I licked a stripe up his throat and whispered, "Mine."
His whole body shuddered, and when I pulled back, his blue eyes were feral and wide with lust.
I pressed my forehead to his and whispered against his mask, "What are you doing to me?"
He didn't have a chance to answer because I was already sliding down off the couch, sinking to my knees in front of him.
The look on his face nearly broke me. He looked wrecked, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Little Falco," he groaned, his voice deep and raw.
I reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, but a sharp pain radiated from my shoulder wound and I winced.
Immediately, he reached for me, like he was ready to lift me back up.
"You don't have to," he said hoarsely. "You're hurt."
I glared up at him, cupping his thighs tightly.
"My wound is on my left shoulder," I said sharply. "Not my mouth."
I let the words sink in before adding, "And the only thing I want to hear from your pretty mouth from now on are your pretty moans."
He sucked in a breath so hard that I saw his chest heave.
"Take your sweatpants off," I ordered, sitting back on my knees as I watched him hungrily. 
He obeyed instantly, lifting his hips and pushing them down in one smooth movement. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking at the tip.
"Good boy," I praised, my voice a dark purr. The second my words hit him, he shuddered violently.
"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, as if the praise alone had him on the brink of coming.
I leaned in, licking a slow, deliberate stripe across the tip of his cock, tasting salt and musk.
He made a sound that sounded like half-whimper and half-moan, as his hands fisted into the couch cushions.
I pulled back, my tongue tingling with the taste of him as I stood up carefully, dragging an armchair closer until it faced him.
I sank into it, still holding eye contact.
"New plan," I said, my voice cold and sharp as steel. "I want to watch you touch yourself."
His whole body tensed, but he nodded.
"Spread your legs wider."
He obeyed immediately, thighs falling open, exposing himself completely. I licked my lips as my mouth watered.
"Wrap your hand around your cock. I want you to feel every inch of yourself."
His hand shook slightly as he obeyed, curling around the thick shaft, squeezing just the way I imagined he liked.
"Good boy," I praised again, and his hand twitched as a guttural noise ripped from his throat.
Fuck, he was responsive and I loved that. I could ruin him so easily.
"Stroke it slowly. Up. And Down."
He did. His head tipped back against the couch, exposing the strong line of his throat, and I wanted to sink my teeth into it.
"Now, go faster."
He pumped faster, precum glistening at the tip now as they started dribbling down his fingers. 
His hips started to buck involuntarily but I snapped, "Stop moving."
He choked on a sound that was half-sob and half-moan, but he forced himself to obey, only his hand continued moving, his abs flexing as he fought to stay still.
"Look at me."
He dragged his gaze to mine, and I felt the desire and sexual tension between us, thick and heavy as blue met gray.
He looked desperate, wrecked, and beautifully undone as he continued stroking with his hand.
"That's it," I said, softer now. "Let me see you."
His breathing turned ragged, his strokes faster and harsher, as his thighs trembled. He was so close.
"Say my name when you come," I ordered.
He nodded frantically, his face twisting in pleasure.
"Angel," he gasped.
I smiled, slow and cruel even though all I wanted to do was to stroke my cock along with him. "Again."
"Angel... fuck...Angel, please..."
His body bowed off the couch as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling across his hand, as he moaned my name.
I leaned back in the chair, smug but stiff as I watched him fall apart for me.
I already knew I was his, right from when I left my post of duty at the masked ball to follow him. 
But right now—as he looked at me with watery blue eyes as he held his cock in his hand, still pumping softly while maintaining eye contact with me—I knew he was mine.