George
“Ineed to give you a key,” I said, standing by the entrance in the drizzling rain, watching him walk up to me. Hoodie over his head. The smile on my face simply ridiculous.
“You should.” He smiled.
He seemed calm. Much calmer than his usual self.
“I need to get the car back; my brother wants it tomorrow morning. We have football.”
“Oh.”
Like I cared about his shitty football practice. His car. His brother. I didn’t. I only cared about him being here. With me.
“I just wanted to see you,” he said from under that hoodie. It was late. Far too late. My weary bones just shivering from the droplets running down the back of my head as I fiddled with the key.
Wet and cold. Warm. His hand running up and down my back. Over my shoulder. Like he was warming me up. Protecting me from the weather.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked, nodding nonchalantly at the carrier bag he was hauling up the stairs. Me following him for once. “You moving in?”
“Nah.” He smiled, turning around and leaning against the wall, as I unlocked the front door. “Just looking out for you, baby.”
“Baby.” He made me nervous. Everything on high alert, just like he always had. This weird anticipation I’d now added to the mix. Never knowing what he was about to do.
“I do notice things,” he said quietly. “All your clothes are on the floor. No clean shirts by the front door. I know you’re overwhelmed, but we can’t have that. Bought you two new ones.”
He had as well, taking a two-pack of my normal shirts out of the bag. The right size. Of course he had.
I wanted to say “You didn’t have to.” I wanted to shout “You idiot! You don’t need to look after me.”
“Thank you,” I whispered instead. Because he’d weirdly offloaded a huge bunch of stress from my already flattened shoulders.
I was such a mess. So overwhelmed. So incredibly underwhelmed with myself.
“Got your yoghurts as well, and some milk. Bananas. Energy is good.”
“Yeah.”
He was now loading groceries into my fridge, effortlessly removing the half-empty milk carton that had curdled days ago. Putting it in the bin, like he lived here. “I’m not…”
Words. Neither of us was good at those.
“No, you’re not,” he said calmly, folding the now-empty grocery bag into a neat little square against his chest. “And it’s fine. I’m here now.”
“I don’t…”
I had no idea what I was trying to say. And he just gently put the bag on the kitchen worktop, and then he walked up to me. Put his hands on my shoulders. His forehead against mine.
And in that moment? I didn’t think I needed words, since I was the one who surged upwards and kissed him because…
Right now, it was what I needed, just to know that we still had this, that he was still mine and that I loved him and that I never wanted this summer to end. This ridiculous chain of events that had led him here with his stupid shopping bag and his kindness and his…
That this was allowed was still new to me. How he brought me close and held me and let me crawl all over him. I couldn’t get enough of his skin. Of his taste, of the warmth under my hands as I tugged at his clothes so I could reach.
More. All of it. All of him.
His top was gone, just leaving the soft sheen of his skin.
A trail of patchy hair all over his chest. I loved it.
It was very him, and I’d mapped out those little hairy places in my head more times than I wanted to remember.
Now I traced them with my fingertips. The stray long hairs above his nipples.
The warm trail down his front. The way dark hairs framed his little belly button.
I suddenly wanted to lick it, but my mouth was occupied elsewhere.
This time? This time I was in control. My hands now making swift work of his joggers, pushing them down in one go, taking his briefs with them as I smoothed my palms over his back. His buttocks. Those rounded muscles flexing under my grip.
My sudden laugh matching his small giggle was everything I needed.
“On the bed, arsehole,” I demanded, giving him a little shove.
He went, so easily. Kicking those legs free of clothing, leaving him naked. Apart from his socks, as I crawled on top of him.
This time? I was still dressed. His hand yanked at my tie.
In a way? It made me brave. Like I was in control of something. This small hurricane of my life that just wouldn’t stop raging. My lips settled back on his as I let his skin clamp between my teeth. Tugged at him as he moaned. His head leant up as I leant back.
I wanted to look at him. Inspect my masterpiece, the one I was so headily creating. That face where every kiss left a mark. Where I sucked my mouth onto his neck. His cheeks. Bit down on his shoulder. I wanted him, everywhere.
“Hot,” he huffed out. “You’re so hot.”
I wanted to laugh in his face, but perhaps I was learning the ropes here. The way he tugged at my tie. Let it twirl around his hand before yanking me closer.
Then he just stared at me, those eyes almost black in the dusky light, my nose pressed hard against his.
Harder than comfortable, but I relished it, wanting to sink right through his bones.
Those hips on him moving underneath me. Just rotating in a little choreography that apparently I could follow.
My dick thickening in my pants with every little jerk.
Every roll. His grip on my tie firm as he held me in place.
Then his hand wouldn’t stop moving. Leading me by the leash to where he wanted my mouth.
Down his bare chest. My tongue trying to reach his skin as my forehead dragged down his stomach.
My legs bending and crawling until I found a comfortable position.
The gasps coming out of his mouth were more of a turn on than I could have imagined, and I had, imagined them. Over and over in every scenario imaginable. How they would sound. How I would coax them out of him. Tease him into submission, where I could finally own him.
Like I did now. Because I felt inflated to the point of bursting. High on every emotion this was.
Him on the bed, naked.
Me on top.
And his gorgeous cock right there on display. For me. Just for me.
I’d done that. Made him become all that he was, laid out for me on my sheets.
His eyes on me. His chest all flushed, his hands now gripping at the duvet on one side, clawing at the bare mattress on the other.
Like the perfect scene pulled straight out of my extensive spank bank.
All featuring him as the main attraction, where I was just sat here on my hunches inspecting my small kingdom.
I felt high. Like I didn’t need any of that anymore because the only scene I would ever remember would be this.
Him looking at me with that desperation in his eyes.
Me trying to rip my pants open so I could free my dick.
Clothing pushed down around my thighs. Locked in this position, where I no doubt would rip my trousers and make an absolute mess of everything. But then?
I had the script down. Every little scene perfected in my mind.
I raised my hand to my mouth, pooling spit in my mouth.
Dirty, yes. But then I was, and the flush on his face told me I was doing exactly what he wanted me to. How I knew that? I had no idea, but I spat in my hand and then tightened a fist right in front of him. Opened slowly to the sound of his breath hitching.
“Do it,” he panted.
Holding myself up with one hand, I grabbed my cock, smearing my spit all over myself.
“Lube is a thing,” he hissed out.
“Not got any, have we?” I replied, not taking my eyes off him.
He raised his hand and copied me. Spitting in his hand, then grabbing himself. The two of us leaving far too much space between our bodies but none between our cocks.
My head was swimming. My fingers tangling in his as we worked it out.
Both our wet hands around our lengths, finding a rhythm as we let ourselves go.
Jerky, rough movements, far too fast. No holding back as he whined and my mouth let out vowels in combinations I couldn’t explain.
Heady breaths mixed with things I wanted to say but never would.
Don’t ever leave me.
Because I didn’t think I could make it if you stopped coming for me.
It was frantic and rushed, and my mouth met his as I lost my balance, now leaning awkwardly on an elbow as we both swung to the side. Our hands. Our cocks. The slip and slide as we breathed into each other’s mouths.
When I came, it was…blinding. Just white at the edge of my vision, my glasses having fallen off my nose.
I wasn’t used to this. I was wearing far too many clothes, piled in a heap on top of him.
Him.
My face once again crushed against his skull. His hand reaching up, turning into a fist in my hair.
Lips on my skin as I slid off him, letting my head land heavily on the pillow, my hand still jerking him off. That cock of his. Hard and hot in my hand. The things I wanted to do to it. To him. Make him pant and moan and beg.
“Please,” he whimpered. A desperate whine as my eyes flew open so I could watch him unravel.
That nose on him scrunched up, his eyes squeezed shut. Lips parted just so as his neck bent back, his whole body lifting off the bed as I drew that first gasp out of him.
Me. My hand. All his little secrets.
His breaths were far too fast when they finally resumed, those little jerks I was still teasing out of his body.
Mine. All mine. Every last little drop landing on his stomach. On my fingers. In the palm of my hand.
I stared at it all in wonder. Soaked up every last little gasp. Then I wrapped him up in my arms, tighter than perhaps necessary, but I let him ride it all out with me. The two of us like this.
I’d probably ruined this suit, the only one I owned. The thought made me chuckle because I would still wear it tomorrow, carrying what he’d left me with proudly. I didn’t care. Because he was here, and he was with me, and everything was just simple when he was.
“You’re everything,” he whispered.
“I’m just me.” I kissed back into his hair.
“You let me be me, and you never make it weird. Never. Ever.”
“Because I love you,” I offered up. A small piece of honesty in an overwhelming amount of truths.
“That’s all I want.” His voice was barely there. And then he pressed a kiss on my mouth. Wiped the wetness from my eyes.
Everything was too much. Too overwhelming.
He took over the control, like he understood. Gently undressed me without any words. Let me close my eyes as he tugged off my socks and wrapped me in the duvet. Tugged at the bottom sheet so I could get comfortable. Kissed the top of my head and left me to rest.
I wanted to beg for him to stay. To be there for me in the morning. Sleep claimed me before I could, and that, in itself, was a minor miracle.
The alarm woke me up when the sky was still dark; my muffled thoughts needed a good amount of time to get a grasp on reality. Find the light on the bedside table and unplug the phone from the charger. He must have done it last night. Set the alarm and everything. Tidied up too, by the looks of it.
All my clothes were gone off the floor. Every stupid sock.
I looked around in a panic, wondering how…
what? I needed clothes! I got up and tugged at my messy hair, only to spot the shirts hanging up by the door.
Shaken out and smoothed down. My suit hanging behind.
One folded pair of briefs on the floor next to my shoes. Two socks gently laid out on top.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout. Instead I sank to my knees, letting my head fall into my stupid hands.
Only he would do something like this. Look after me the way he did. Care enough to notice.
“Fuck you,” I whispered. And then I couldn’t stop smiling.