He looks into my eyes, those blues so icy and deep, and he whispers against my lips, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. Sometimes it feels like I wanted this with you before I even met you.”
His words take my breath away, and I respond by pulling him tight to me, wrapping him up in my arms, whispering, “Same.”
Our kisses intensify, almost violently so. My teeth snag his lips on more than one occasion, but we keep going, lighting into each other like it’s been years instead of just weeks of denial. My hands find their way up under his shirt, and I stroke, cool fingers on hot skin, up and down, up and down. He moans against my lips, so I reach the edges of his shirt and pull it over his head, exposing his beautiful, lightly furred, and colorfully decorated body. It’s clear he’s been working out and getting better nutrition, as new definition in the planes of his stomach have begun to form.
No longer satisfied with just his mouth, I explore my way down his neck, his every moan and shudder lighting me on fire.
He pulls back, whispering into my ear, “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come so hard.”
Fuck. I want him to come so hard. I want him to come so hard that he blacks out and forgets anybody else he’s ever been with. I pull back slightly and relieve him of our shared friction. I take off my shirt, and his sharp inhale makes me smile. I reach for the button on his pants, undoing it as patiently as I can muster, slowly taking down his zipper, giving him the opportunity to stop, to say that he doesn’t want to keep going.
He says nothing and only kisses me harder. I put my hands on his hips and move him off me, and his moaned protests nearly cause me to come right there. “I just want to get these damn jeans off.”
“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Good idea.”
We both make quick work of our jeans and underwear, and soon we’re both naked, looking at each other longingly. I’m no slouch in the dick department, but his is… surprisingly large. Still, I read a small hesitancy in his demeanor, so I hold out my hand to him and he takes it, using it to pull me in close. I lean a knee on the couch to bring me down to his height so that our cocks can grind against one another. We both groan when they touch, and it is pretty much the best feeling in the whole goddamn world.
I blink and for a moment think about how very different this night is from, well, every other sexual encounter I’ve ever had. Usually at this point the guy has been thoroughly prepped and I am already up his ass, fisting his cock while nailing his prostate. We’ve certainly not exchanged pleasantries, let alone a peek into his soul. I’m not an asshole to my lovers, mind you; I get off on making them come, and even though I’m a hard-ass, I’m careful to make sure they enjoy themselves and can still sit down in the morning. But… this is different. I am different with Elijah. Softer, curious about a future, not just wanting to fuck him but wanting to find out what his favorite flavor of ice cream is so that I can surprise him with it on a random Tuesday.
I jerk myself back into the present and rise, stepping between Elijah’s legs, putting him a bit off balance. I push him down so that his back hits the couch. My one hand stroking his cock, I use the other to release my prosthetic. Using his dick as my counterbalance, I stand on my one foot and throw the prosthetic off to the side, then lean myself against him, all but dropping my full weight down onto him. Our cocks meet again like old friends, and I rut up against him as he lets his head drop back, exposing his Adam’s apple. I attack his neck again, licking and sucking up and down the column of flesh, mercilessly rebuilding the friction against his cock.
“Oh my god, I’m going to come. Going to come…” Liquid warmth fills the space between my fingers, and it immediately becomes a lubricant.Fuuuuuck. It feels so good that I’m soon following him into ecstasy. When my balls tighten and let go, every part of my body clenches and then releases on a wave of pleasure that makes my head go fuzzy. I kiss him deeply, slowly fisting myself, joining our cum on my softening cock, pumping until every last drop has been milked clean from my body.
I smile down at him, the wide grin almost hurting my cheeks until I find myself brushing tears from those beautiful ice-blue eyes of his. “Baby, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” It’s only in passing that I hear the endearment pass from my lips. Chalk up another first.
“Sorry. Not sure why the tears—just been an emotional day. But no,” he says, again nailing me with that look of his. “You didn’t hurt me, not one little bit.”
Unable to help the smile reappearing on my face, I bring my hand up to brush the hair off his forehead. He leans into the gesture, taking a little bit of my heart with him. I lean over and grab my T-shirt, gently wiping the shared cum from our chests and bellies. I kiss him, and he hugs me close.
“Come on, then. Let’s get some sleep. Join me in my bed?” I ask, internally trying to give myself side eye. Talk about being led around by my short and curlies. So fucking gone over this guy.
He’s nervous and suddenly very interested in a microscopic hangnail. “I… I’m sorry, but I’d rather sleep by myself, if that’s okay.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed, but it breaks my heart to have him ask if I’m okay with it. “Of course it’s okay, but even if it wasn’t,” I say, then pause to tilt his chin so we’re making eye contact. “Even if it wasn’t, that would still be okay. And you don’t owe anyone… anything.”
Elijah’s sad grin in response tears at me, and another single tear falls from the corner of his eye.
We rearrange ourselves so that we’re sitting next to one another again as I pull on my prosthetic. Finished with that small annoyance, I stand, check my balance, then hold out my hand to him and am relieved when he takes it. I pull him into me for a hug, and we stand there between the couch and the coffee table, swaying against one another for several minutes. Or maybe no time at all. I have no idea.
Grabbing his hand again, I walk him down the hallway to my guest bedroom, which is appointed like a hotel room with a double bed in the middle, two nice bedside tables, matching lamps, lush curtains and bedspreads, dark wood against pristine white. His eyes go a little wide, and I know for a fact that this is way nicer than the seventeen-roommate-or-whatever situation he’s got going on. “There’s towels and toiletries in the bathroom, and I can get you a big T-shirt to sleep in, if you’d like.” He nods and looks up at me, wordlessly, gratitude in his worried eyes and pinched eyebrows and bitten lips.
“I know you’re in a rough spot. You can stay here as many nights as you wish.” I don’t know why I say it, but it feels good and I don’t want to take it back.
He nods, and I can see that he truly does need to be alone with his thoughts for a bit. Stroking my fingers along his cheekbone one more time, I remind him, “I’m just down the hallway, so if you need anything, just ask. And make yourself at home. You’re welcome to whatever is in the refrigerator and whatever toiletries you find in there.”
He leans up into a final kiss, his lips gentle against mine. “Thank you.”
* * *
Elijah
Honestly, I’m terrified. I wanted so much—you wouldn’t believe how much—to say yes when he invited me into his bed. The idea of being surrounded by his warm body, snuggled up safely against him is… way too tempting. And as for his offer to allow me to stay as many nights as I wanted to? Yeah, that can’t happen.
I’ve got too much to lose.
I know I can trust him, really, I do. But the reality of my life and who I am means that this will never work. As much as I want him, as much as I maybe need him, people like me don’t get lives like this.
It’s surprising to me, with the way this day has gone, that getting a promotion and a massive raise isn’t the number one thing on my list. Honestly, not even the orgasm is number one. Just being able to touch him, even just for that little bit, is everything. Number one with a bullet is our post-frot hug.
