Closed curtains made the room dim, but enough light got through to make his features clear so the same would have applied to me. A sleep-blurred pallor plus my hatred of being looked at while another guy touched me.
“You sure this is all right?” he whispered against my hair, shoving and pushing and kicking the covers out of our way.
“Doesn’t seem to me like I have a choice.” I wondered if he’d blame my shaking hands on my temporary illness, rather than nerves. There was more than a little wonder there, too.
They said this sort of thing didn’t land on your doorstep, but it had. Literally. Complete with black curly hair just right for grabbing hold of as I kissed him.
“I don’t have to stop then?”
“You’d better not.”
But it was Steven who whimpered next, a quiet, momentary loss of control, a breath through gritted teeth when I pulled his buckle open and went for his zip. “God. Fuck. Kit.”
Even feeling the way I did, I couldn’t resist preening inwardly. I hadn’t even touched his cock and I’d already reduced him to monosyllabic encouragements and fighting to take a breath.
“Just…gotta…”
“Hmm?” I threatened to nibble at his bottom lip, just sucked it as he broke the kiss, let him feel my teeth almost biting. I’d wanted to do that since I’d first seen his mouth. Actually, that was the second thing. The first thing I’d wanted to do was see what his lips looked like wrapped around my cock.
“…touch you.” He pushed himself against me, like he was trying to fuck me through his clothes, but managed to haul my shorts out of the way. Somehow.
One minute I was wearing them, the next they were halfway down my thighs. I could have pulled them off but whatever. Steven had his hand on my cock again. That was all that mattered.
“You’re gonna put me off, you know,” I murmured against his neck, breathing him in.
“Trying to… God, that’s…”
“You like that?”
“Lemme…your zip…”
“Kit, just, fuck, we don’t have time. Just let me see you— oh God…”
I felt the shudder run through him, arching his spine and pushing his hips against mine. He lay still for a moment and I held my breath, waited for him to make the next move.
Steven let go of me, but only to pull his zip all the way down, shove his shorts out of the way. Then he was on me again like a desperate man.
His tongue tasted of the countless mugs of coffee he’d had at work to help him sober up and rehydrate. There was the faintest taste of mint there too, and smoke.
I had no idea who was touching who—we ended up tangled, lying on our sides, and the moment Steven ran his palm along the underside of my cock I knew I wouldn’t last long.
Just his palm, no fingers wrapped around me, and it was one of the most erotic feelings I’d ever experience. He wanted to see me come and I needed to but that move was just about touching me for the sake of it, with no end result in mind.
“You distracted me all morning at work.” Though our foreheads touched, our proximity throwing everything else in the room out of focus, I could still make out the curve of his lips, the blade of his cheekbone sharp with a barely-suppressed grin.
“Nah, that was just the hangover.” His nearly-grin was infectious, and I laughed too.
“Do that again. God, Steven, I—” I hissed in a breath and neither of us laughed now. “Need to come.”
“And I needed to see it.”
I hoped he wouldn’t pull away, try to watch; I couldn’t tell him how much I hated that, my loss of control witnessed. Anything to stop it happening. So I pushed myself against him and in the tangle of hands and fingers, our cocks touched and as soon as they did he grunted.
Like the first push inside me last night.
“Wish we had time for more,” he whispered.
“Just shut up and— fuck, just like that—” My voice had become a whine or a whimper, too strangulated to continue, and the way Steven was grinding against me, his hand over mine, forcing us together, just about finished me off.
“Gonna come.” His breath was warm— hot—against the side of my face.
I buried my head in the curve of his shoulder, praying he wouldn’t make me move. Just give me one more minute, just let me come, let me come. The moisture between us was a combination of perspiration from hot, clammy hands and pre-cum from both of us, slick against our cocks and in between fumbling fingers.
I couldn’t remember hearing anything hotter than his breaths getting shallower. There was something dirty about the closed curtains, the protesting mattress, the time of day. He shouldn’t have been here, we shouldn’t have been doing this, but he was and we were.
“God. Fuck yes.” The last of my breath grunted out of me at the second my spine melted and I came, muttering against his shoulder, his neck, him. I think I said his name. I probably swore, or it could have been Steven’s voice I heard throwing a random profanity out into the room as he covered my hand in semen.
He didn’t stop moving straight away—his hips slowed but every so often he juddered, and I heard his breath catch in his throat.
“Oh God.” Steven leaned in, I thought to kiss me, but didn’t. Not yet. “Need. To get.
My
