The back of the couch cushions.
I’d have to clean the furniture before Grayson got home, but I would loathe every second of it.
I brewed a pot and poured two mugs full, throwing some toast onto a plate and balancing it all as I made my way back to the bedroom. Hendrix was still asleep, wrapped up in the sheets with swollen lips and a relaxed face.
Absolutely fucking perfect.
Gently, I untangled the sheets from his legs and slid down between them. His cock sat soft and plump against his stomach and I tested the weight of it in the palm of my hand. The skin around his dick burned hotter than the rest of him, and I gauged the temperature with a slow swipe of my tongue. Hendrix groaned and rolled onto his back, curious hands feeling me out with a groggy little moan.
“Let me make you come,” I whispered, flicking my tongue against the slit of his dick.
“You’re in charge.”
Hendrix’s voice was thick with sleep, and his cock thickened alongside his words. I took him into my mouth, loving how he fit and focusing on the way he lengthened and swelled the longer I held him there. I sucked his cock softly, tenderly, ignoring the way my own shaft throbbed against my thigh. With my eyes closed, I let all the sounds Hendrix made roll over me, vibrate through me. I dug my fingers into him, gouging around his hip bones and relaxing the muscles of my throat while he swelled and pushed deeper into my mouth. I held him there until it was hard to breathe, then I started to suck him slowly, carefully.
I had all the time in the world.
Bringing Hendrix to the edge, I let his cock slide out of my mouth, turning my attention to the folds of his thighs, his balls, the cleft of his ass. I fucking loved the taste of him, the heat of his body. Burying my face between his cheeks, I fisted my own cock, fucking into my hand as I speared his still well-fucked hole open with my tongue.
My own orgasm approached like a tidal wave, and I took Hendrix’s cock back into my mouth, eager to taste him as my own release crested. He wasn’t far behind, my release splattering against the already soiled sheets only a breath before he shot into the back of my throat with a strangled groan.
I kept him in my mouth, with my eyes closed and my cheek against his thigh until his cock went soft again. His fingers worked their way through my hair, moving as slowly and tenderly as the still early morning called for. My heart beat slow and steady, perfectly content to nestle between Hendrix’s legs until he made me move.
This was what aftercare looked like to me.
The quiet slurp of coffee from the head of the bed lulled my eyes open, and with a crack in my shoulder, I shifted my weight to gaze up toward his face. It was almost like seeing him for the first time all over again. Last night, this morning, something had shifted between us, and I couldn’t help but feel like the move had been for the better.
“Good morning,” I whispered, kissing his thigh, his hip, his navel, before rolling onto my back beside him.
He handed me the other mug, shoulder pressing against mine as he peacefully sipped at his coffee.
“You got up early and made breakfast,” he said.
“I’d hardly call toast and coffee breakfast. Besides, I like making you coffee in the morning after I’ve fucked you into another plane of existence.”
He chortled, and I hid my smirk behind the rim of my coffee mug.
“Oh? Is that what you think you did?” he teased.
“If not, I can try again. And again. And again.” I moved to set my coffee down and mount him again, but he met me with a laugh and a hand against my chest.
“A man needs his sustenance if he’s going to come like a teenager.”
“I can make you a better meal.” I climbed out of bed and held out my free hand for him to join me. “If you wanted to go again.”
“Glad to see you’re back to your usual self.” Hendrix stood, naked, sliding his hand into mine. “Should I get dressed first?”
“Grayson isn’t home, but I don’t know when he will be.” I frowned, the idea of pants absolutely abhorrent. “He’s seen me naked, but I’d rather leave your body to his imagination.”
“I doubt he’s thinking much of me.”
Hendrix gave me his coffee to hold, and I set both mugs on top of my dresser. We rooted around the floor, looking for his underwear so he could halfway dress himself before venturing into the shared areas of the house. I offered him a clean t-shirt, which hung a little loose on his shoulders, and shorts that stretched a little too tight around his thighs.
“You should have some clothes here,” I remarked, the visible bulge of his cock bordering on obscene.
“I live next door.”
“But you’re here now.”
