Cute guy in Apartment 2C. No wonder he looked slightly familiar.
I only caught a glimpse of him when I was moving in, but I’d nearly dropped the box I was holding. I’d been hoping to run into him again sometime in the hallway, but so far, it hadn’t happened.
My stomach curdles. If I say who I am, he’ll work out what I really look like. And that might end things before they begin.
My conscience and my cock have an epic war for control of my mouth.
My cock wins.
I’m prepared to take discomfort in the hallway if it means I get off now. If it means I get to have this, someone touching me in desire, just for one night.
I can sadly calculate exactly how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. Because my lovely ex Carlos decided to leave me on my birthday, January first.
It turns out that leaving me was a New Year’s resolution he was determined to keep.
Previously, the end of a relationship wouldn’t have meant a sudden cessation in my sex life. But it did this time.
I’m not thinking about that now though.
Tonight is for forgetting about the accident, forgetting the months of recovery, forgetting that my face under the paint tells a story I never asked to be part of.
And as soon as we’re inside Darth Vader’s apartment, the time for confessions has passed.
Because he presses me against the door and kisses me.
Holy shit, this kiss. It’s the holy grail of kisses. A kiss that makes me forget I’m dressed as a nine-hundred-year-old swamp goblin. A kiss that’s apparently rewriting my entire nervous system’s operating manual.
His tongue glides along mine in the best slide in the history of sliding. You know, if there were a history of tongue sliding, which there very much should be.
He doesn’t seem worried about the transfer of face paint. In fact, he kisses me with complete abandonment, as if the fact that I’m going to potentially turn his face into a Shrek tribute is actually part of my appeal.
I fumble for his belt because nothing says sexy like struggling with costume accessories while trying not to break a kiss.
Eventually, I’m forced to break away panting so I can use two hands.
“Nine hundred years old I am. Learned a few things about lightsaber handling, I have,” I say as I finally triumph over his belt thingy.
He laughs, and although it still sounds like Darth Vader, there’s something warm about his laughter. Like he’s been storing sunshine somewhere beneath all that black leather and menace.
“I can’t wait to see your lightsaber technique,” he says breathlessly. Although breathlessness is probably Darth Vader’s signature sound, come to think of it.
How sad is it that I’ve forgotten how much fun sex with another person is? No offense to my right hand, but it really doesn’t have quite the prowess of Darth Vader’s as he pulls up my robes and shows me that evil empires clearly invest in advanced training for all kinds of infiltration techniques.
Within seconds, he’s got his hand inside my boxers, wrapping his fingers around me with the kind of confidence that suggests he’s practiced this particular Force grip before.
“Bed,” I gasp.
His apartment is laid out like mine, so it’s a short distance to his bedroom. His bed’s made with military precision, which feels weirdly appropriate for Darth Vader.
We start kissing again as we stumble toward the bed, and he manages to untangle me from my Jedi robes without breaking contact. It’s like watching a magic trick—if magicians were really into heavy breathing and grinding. His Darth Vader chest plate hits the floor with a thunk, along with his voice synthesizer. Which means I’m not going to hear Darth Vader’s breathy tones anymore, and I have to admit I’m slightly disappointed. My sexual preferences now include evil space dictator voice, and I’m just going to have to live with that information about myself.
We’re kissing between every piece of clothing that comes off, messy and desperate, and when his hands finally touch my bare skin, I make a sound that’s embarrassingly close to a whimper.
My eyes prickle because, apparently, part of me doubted I’d ever have this again, that someone would ever want to touch me like this, with hunger instead of hesitation. He pushes me back on the bed, his gorgeous body blanketing mine.
And I’m reminded about exactly how good it feels when two naked bodies press against each other.
Every place he touches feels like it’s been asleep for months and is suddenly, violently awake. His fingers trace along my hip bone as his tongue follows the line of my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine.
