“Yeah. Your dick.” His fingers moved, and I realised he was using his cum to draw a heart shape on my skin. “Your dick, attached to you, you sexy, possessive fucker.” “I’m not possessive.” It was a lie. I was…of him. I’d never been this way before. Flashing me a grin, he drew another heart, but when he started drawing stick figures, I clamped my hand down over his, stilling his motions. “My abs are not a canvas, and your cum is not paint.” “Says you. Yet I’m here drawing pictures all over you.”
