“Those just come off?” I say as she shoves them into her purse.
“If you put them on over the garters, sure.” She reaches out and thumbs the head of my clothed dick, making me gasp.
“You should be quieter,” she says as I push my pants and boxers down just enough that they’re out of the way. Andi takes the condom from my hand and strokes my cock once, positions it on the head, then rolls it down. She strokes me again and I push her against the mats, kissing her.
“Ishouldbe driving us home,” I remind her, and thrust against her again, heat twisting up my spine. God, we’re not even fucking yet and I think I might be melting.
“Still time to change your mind,” she teases me, then bites my lip. I have to swallow a groan and don’t do a good job of it.
“No. Turn around,” I tell her. After one last kiss, she does, bracing herself on the mats. There’s a zipper down the back of her dress, and I pull it down to reveal a sliver of skin all the way down her spine, her skirt still around her hips, the fucking garters and the fucking tights bold against pale skin. Andi shivers. I have to catch my breath, and she looks over her shoulder at me, all flushed and teasing.
I put my hand on her hip and guide myself in, and Andi’s warm and slippery and before I know it Andi makes a broken-off whimper and I’m open-mouthed against the back of her neck, my whole body hot and cold and shivery, her skin salty. I swallow and try to compose myself, sunk inside her, try to fight the sensation that I’m gladly drowning.
“Good?” I finally manage, and curve my hand over her hip, along her belly. Andi leans back and braces a hand against the wall, muscles pulsing around me.
“Good,” she murmurs, and I start moving. I go slow so I can watch, greedily, one hand locked around her thigh. It looks like a magic trick the way I disappear into her, the way it feels like falling, the way she sighs and catches her breath and swallows her noises. The way she rocks back against me and makes a louder noise, anohthat gets caught between her teeth, when I bottom out.
I stay like that for a moment, holding her hips back against me, and scrape my teeth along her neck.
“Fuck,” she whispers, gasps, clenches around me, and from then on, I can’t think. She’s braced against the wall and the mats and I’m braced against her and I’m burning or drowning, it doesn’t matter. She swears again and gets one knee up on the mats, so I find her clit, rub furious circles around it. Andi’s making these small, soft, whimpering noises, and over the rush of blood in my ears I think I hear her sayfuck, yes, come on. I think I say her name in response.
And maybe we haven’t fucked before this, but I know how she sounds when she’s getting close, know the specific way her body trembles. Her hand against the wall curls into a fist and I get a second of warning before she comes and I hold her tight and fuck her through it the way I know she likes. I ignore the white heat sinking down my spine until she’s done, boneless and gasping, and then I finally let go.
Andi pushes back against me as I do, the muscles in her back knotting as I come so hard my brain turns to static and my ears ring. I probably say her name again, at least once, and when it’s over I’m plastered against her back, both of us sweaty, half-collapsed on old wrestling mats. I have to remember to breathe once, twice, my face still against the back of her neck.
“I don’t think we were quiet,” she says, turning her head.
“Oops,” I say, and she laughs silently. I feel it in my dick and shudder.
After a moment, I peel myself off her and deal with the condom. Andi pulls her skirt down and I zip up the back of her dress because I’m a gentleman, and then she scoots over and sits so I’m standing between her legs, leaning back against her, floating and lazy. People are waiting for us outside this room, probably wondering where we are. I’ll care about it in a minute.
“That was a good time,” Andi says, playing with my hair. “Thanks.”
I lean back against her, eyes closed.
“You’re welcome,” I tell her, and then: “I’ve never done that before.”
“Really? You’ve never had sex in the equipment room of an old college gymnasium?” she says, dryly, the tugs on my scalp curling down my spine.
“I’ve never had sex before,” I say, and her hands go still. “That kind, at least.”
There are a few seconds of stillness and silence, just long enough for me to open my eyes and wonder if I’ve breached protocol.
“You’re saying I just deflowered you in a supply closet?” she asks, her hands still in my hair but unmoving.
“That’s not the word I’d use.”
“Sorry, an equipment room.”
Another beat of silence passes, and then I start laughing. I feel melty and floaty and like all my problems are a million miles away, and Andi puts her forehead on my shoulder and starts laughing, too.
“You meant deflower?” she says.
“I did.”
“If you’d told me I could’ve gotten you rose petals and candles.”
“I didn’t want rose petals and candles,” I tell her. “I wanted you.”
