They moved to the couch in a slow, almost choreographed dance, their lips finding each other again and again. Denis sat first, pulling Cherry onto his lap. Cherry straddled him, knees sinking into the cushions, their bodies aligned in a way that felt both new and familiar. Their kisses were still slow, exploratory, but there was a growing heat between them, a promise of more.
Cherry’s hands roamed Denis’s shoulders and arms, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. Denis’s fingers dug into Cherry’s hips, guiding him as they rocked together gently, the friction of their jeans sending sparks through both of them. “You’re gonna kill me,” Denis whispered against Cherry’s lips, his voice rough with want.
“Good way to go,” Cherry shot back, his smirk audible. He ground down harder, drawing a groan from Denis. The movement was deliberate, teasing, building the tension like a slow-burning fuse.
Denis’s hands slipped under Cherry’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head. The cool air hit Cherry’s skin, raising goosebumps, but Denis’s mouth was there, kissing a path down his chest. He lingered at Cherry’s nipples, sucking gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive buds. Cherry’s head fell back, a low moan vibrating in his throat. “Fuck, Denis,” he breathed, his hands threading through Denis’s hair, holding him close. “So good, Denis. So fucking good.”
They took their time, exploring each other with hands and mouths, learning the contours of desire. Denis’s fingers traced the scars on Cherry’s torso, each one a remnant of a life lived hard and fast. Cherry’s hands mapped Denis’s body, memorizing the dip of his collarbone, the curve of his biceps. There was a tenderness to it, a quiet intimacy that spoke of something deeper than lust, though neither named it.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” Denis said, his voice soft as his hand slid lower, cupping Cherry through his jeans.
Cherry’s laugh was low, husky. “It’s perfect. Keep going.”
Denis’s fingers worked the button of Cherry’s jeans, popping it open and tugging the zipper down. He pushed the denim aside, his hand slipping inside to stroke Cherry through his briefs. Cherry’s hips bucked, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. “Yeah, like that,” he murmured, his voice thick.
They shed their clothes piece by piece, the act a slow unveiling. Denis’s pants hit the floor, followed by Cherry’s jeans, until they were both bare, skin against skin. They moved to the floor, the rug soft beneath them, their bodies entwined. Denis hovered over Cherry, his eyes searching, as if asking permission one last time.
Cherry pulled him down, kissing him fiercely. “I want you,” he said, the words raw and honest.
Denis nodded, reaching for a condom and a bottle of lube from a nearby drawer. He coated his fingers, his touch gentle as he prepared Cherry, his movements slow and careful. Cherry’s breath hitched, his body relaxing under Denis’s touch, the intimacy of the act grounding them both. When Denis entered him, it was slow and deliberate, each inch a careful exploration. Cherry groaned, his hands gripping Denis’s shoulders, urging him closer.
They moved together, their rhythm unhurried, savoring the connection. Denis’s thrusts were deep, measured, each one drawing a soft moan from Cherry. They kissed through it, lips and tongues tangling, their breaths mingling. Cherry’s legs wrapped around Denis’s waist, pulling him deeper, their bodies finding a rhythm that felt like a conversation filled with a communal give and take, push and pull.
Cherry’s thoughts drifted as they moved, a mix of sensation and emotion. He’d never expected this. Couldn’t have foretold how Denis, with his sharp suits and sharper mind, fit so perfectly against him. They were opposites in so many ways, yet here, in this moment, they were one. He felt the potential for love, a seed planted but not yet named, and it thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.
The pace began to shift, the smoldering heat giving way to something more urgent. Cherry’s hands roamed Denis’s back, nails digging in as he urged, “Faster.”
Denis complied, his thrusts quickening, the slow burn igniting into a blaze. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies. Sweaty skin slapping, breaths ragged, and low moans growing louder. Cherry’s hips met each thrust, his body arching, chasing the pleasure building in his core.
“Denis. Please, fuck, don’t stop,” Cherry gasped, his voice breaking.
Denis’s response was a low growl, his movements becoming erratic, driven by need. They were frantic now, bodies slamming together, sweat slicking their skin. Cherry’s hand slid between them, stroking himself in time with Denis’s thrusts, the dual sensation pushing him towards the edge.
When it hit, it was overwhelming. Cherry’s orgasm ripping through him, his body clenching around Denis as he cried out. Denis followed moments later, his release spilling inside the condom, his groan muffled against Cherry’s neck.
They collapsed together, breathless and spent, limbs tangled on the rug. Cherry’s chest heaved, his heart pounding as Denis’s weight settled against him, a comforting pressure. They lay there in silence, the city’s hum a distant backdrop to their shared breathing.
Denis cock slipped free, causing them both to groan. “I gotta take care of the condom.”
“In a minute.” Cherry chuckled softly, his voice rough. “You’re gonna have to carry me to bed after that.”
Denis laughed quietly, pressing a soft kiss to Cherry’s shoulder. “I’ll gladly admit that you’ve wrecked me.” He shifted and grunted, and Cherry felt the back of his hand against his splattered stomach. “There, condom, done.”
They stayed like that, basking in the afterglow. Cherry knew love wasn’t there yet, but it was close, a promise in the way they held each other. His fingers traced lazy patterns on Denis’s chest as they lay still, the rug soft beneath them but not quite enough to keep the chill of the floor at bay. “Bed?” Cherry suggested, his voice low, teasing.
Denis nodded, pulling Cherry to his feet. They detoured to the bathroom for a quick clean-up, and then stumbled to the bedroom, hands never leaving each other, their laughter soft in the quiet house. The bed was a haven of crisp sheets, and the faint scent of Denis’s cologne. They fell onto it, bodies entwining once more, the night far from over.
Denis kissed Cherry slowly, his lips lingering, as if memorizing the shape of his mouth. Cherry responded in kind, his hands sliding up Denis’s back, fingers digging into the muscle there. The smoldering heat returned, a slow build that felt like a continuation rather than a restart. Denis’s hand found Cherry’s hip, pulling him closer, their bodies aligning perfectly.
“You’re addictive,” Denis murmured, his lips brushing Cherry’s ear.
Cherry grinned, nipping at Denis’s jaw. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”
They explored each other still, hands and mouths mapping familiar territory with new reverence. Denis’s fingers traced the scars on Cherry’s ribs, his touch gentle, curious. “These tell stories,” he said softly.
“Some good, some not,” Cherry replied, his voice quiet. He didn’t elaborate, and Denis didn’t push for more information, making the moment feel significant, a sharing of trust.
Denis’s mouth moved lower, kissing a path down Cherry’s chest, lingering at his navel before continuing south. He took Cherry in his mouth, slow and deliberate, his tongue swirling in patterns that made Cherry’s hips buck. “Fuck, Denis,” Cherry groaned, his hands fisting the sheets.
