Mark of the Damned | 18+

Coy Boy

Song - Coy Boy by Blue Iverson

As I have every day for a week, I wake before the sun. Pulling down the side of my hammock, I peek down at his sleeping body. I can hardly see him, the moonlight shining through my window is barely a sliver.

It's been seven days since we kissed. Seven torturous days have passed since he pressed his body against mine. He sleeps in my room, squished into the small space, on the hard ground, each night. That's the extent of our contact.

I'm growing desperate.

He's lying on the ground, one of his arms is slung over his face, and his chest rises and falls slowly. Even though I can't see him clearly, he looks peaceful. His body is relaxed, his breath quiet. I hardly breathe, hoping that I won't wake him so that I can stare just a bit longer.

Days have passed, but our progress is slow. The wind is not cooperating. I don't know much about sailing, but I know we aren't moving very fast.

Being confined to this small place without touching him is awful. My mind is constantly distracted by images of his lips and hands. My teeth chatter as I try to cover myself with the small scraps of fabric I'm using as a blanket.

"Niamh?" He moves in the dark, his voice thick with sleep.

I feel the deep vibrations of his voice in my chest.

"Come here." He doesn't wait for me to respond.

I'm instantly jittery. My body is now shaking from both excitement and cold. Quickly stepping down, I slide onto the ground beside him. The heat from his body hits me before he even touches me. He rolls onto his side and pulls me into his arms, against his chest.

The warmth of his touch spreads through me, and I melt into him. His arms and chest are so hard, bulky muscles beneath salt-soaked skin.

"You're cold," he rubs his hands over my arms.

I lean into him, pressing my face into the warm crook of his neck. For a moment, his hand stops moving, freezing against my arm. Just as I go to pull away, he relaxes again. I'm never sure if I'm crossing a line or doing something wrong.

He pulls me closer, leaving no space between our bodies. Every nerve in my body is on fire. Against my stomach, I feel a hardening bulge. Moving my hips, I try to get closer, to feel it better.

He growls and moves too, digging into my stomach.

"Have you ever touched yourself, Niamh?" His voice is croaky and strained.

"Touched myself?" He hasn't even kissed me, and I'm panting and desperate.

"Between your legs. Have you ever rubbed your hand between your legs?"

As he says this, the area throbs.

"N-No."

"Pull up your skirt."

My wide, shocked eyes meet his. Pull my skirt up?

"Just enough to be able to reach under it." He coaxes me gently.

My fingers shake as I tug my skirt up enough to put my hand below it.

"Pull your knickers down." His eyes are almost glowing. I can hear his heart pounding in his chest.

Shifting my hips, I pull them down just enough to be exposed but not enough to be naked. If it wasn't so dark in here, I would be much too nervous to expose anything.

"Slide your hand down between your legs." His voice is so tense it shakes as he watches my hand move slowly down my stomach.

Watching his face, I timidly touch, gasping when my fingers slip against the wet, smooth skin.

He drops his head down for a moment and moans into my shoulder.

"Tell me what it feels like," he says, sounding desperate like he's begging.

"It's wet and warm," I shiver. I never expected this to feel so good.

"Fuck, Niamh." His hips press forward, and he brings his hand down to the front of his pants. His eyes are focused on mine, watching as I start to feel strange tingling sensations shooting from my spine.

I freeze when his hand comes down on mine. Without a word, he moves in small circles in a certain spot. Instantly, this feels even better than before. My back arches up from the floor, and a whimpering sound comes from the back of my throat.

"Cooper," I'm not sure if I'm begging him to stop or to keep going. I've never felt anything like this. The thumping, fluttering feeling between my legs is growing, but this helps it somehow too.

"Look what you're doing to me," he groans, rubbing the front of his pants and pressing his hand against himself. His eyes pinch closed, and the muscles in his chest tremble. He looks like what he's doing feels as good as what I'm doing.

"Can I see it?"

His eyes fly open, shock taking over his face in the low light.

"I'm so sorry, I don't-" I start to panic. What was I thinking?

An arrogant smile pulls at his lips as he dips down, kissing me, hard. "You want to see my cock?"

"I-I'm not- I didn't mean-" I stumble against his mouth.

"You didn't mean it?" He grins. "I think you did."

I can feel him moving, but it isn't until I feel silky, soft skin against my arm that I realize he's taken it out of his pants. My cheeks burn as I peer down to take a peek at it.

His hand is wrapped around it, moving up and down with a tight grip.

My hand momentarily stops moving. With unabashed curiosity, I watch him bring himself pleasure. Each jerk of his hand makes my stomach clench. His breathing is labored, and quiet grunts and moans spill past his lips.

It's so large. It's long and thick and stands straight up.

Moving my fingers in circles between my legs again, I'm overcome by what I'm seeing and feeling. My stomach feels tight, like a knot that is growing by the second. My legs jerk and shake, and sounds come out of my mouth uncontrollably.

"That's it," he growls, clenching his jaw as he pumps his hand faster. "Just like that. Don't stop."

The sound that his movements make, the quiet, wet sound of skin, is driving me wild. It's like I'm chasing something. Moving my fingers faster, I'm looking for whatever unknown thing is coming. I'm desperate for it. My body has never felt this good.

I'm suddenly hit with a wave of intense pleasure. My hand instinctively stops as my body tries to process this much feeling all at once.

"Don't stop," he moves his hand down between my legs, circling his fingers where mine had been.

"It's too much," I choke.

Everything feels wet, hot, and swollen. My whole body contorts, my back arches up, and my legs shake. Through the window, a sliver of dim light signals the rising sun outside. His face is bathed in golden light, and it's more than I can take.

"Cooper," I don't even recognize the sound of my own voice as I moan his name, overcome by everything that is consuming me.

He groans, and his shoulders tense as his hand slows. I feel like I've melted into the floor, but I force my eyes open enough to watch as thick streams of fluid shoot out of him. His mouth falls open, and his elongated teeth glint in the light.

A long growl ripples in his chest, and he leans over me, caging my body to the floor below his.

His eyes flicker as he licks his teeth. "Fuck." He sounds equally strained and longing. "You should go," his tense muscles shake.

He told me to go but he's still on top of me, keeping me on the floor. His nose grazes the skin of my neck, and he shudders.

"Niamh," he growls and I feel the sharp scape of his teeth over my neck. I lean in, tipping my head back to give him access to anywhere he wants to touch. "No," he snaps, pulling himself up and slamming the door shut behind him.

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