Efforts Toward Revenge.
I can’t say that I wasn’t furious to wake up handcuffed to my bed. I mean, outside of some kinky fantasy-come-true, I don’t think anyone really would be. And it was particularly infuriating because he was obviously such a rookie in the field. I mean, I think that was probably my fatal error. I let my guard down, because I assumed that he wouldn’t be able to come up with something that would sufficiently threaten me in anyway. And, really, handcuffing me to my bed was more like a bad practical joke than anything particularly malicious but it was certainly incredibly frustrating, and embarrassing, since I had to call my agency in order for someone to come free me. (Did I mention I was naked? Because I was naked.)
Anyway, it’s been a few months since then, and while the anger mostly faded to some sort of admiration at being able to outsmart me, the instinctive need for revenge didn’t really leave me. Unfortunately, the chances of seeing him again were slim. The man we had both been working to take down had died by his own devices, in a chemical explosion in one of his own labs, which was ironic and almost too easy, so naturally, we swarmed in and took over and arrested basically everyone. I didn’t see Joe throughout that.
And, yeah, I know that’s not really his name, but I don’t know what else to call him; that was how he introduced himself to me and there’s something about his sharp jaw and dark eyelashes that make a name that would make it so that a name any less ordinary wouldn’t suit him. He’s so beautiful, in that way that most people aren’t beautiful, and I think if he had a name that fit that beauty, I wouldn’t be as interested in him.
Not that I am interested in him. The kid’s just a happy target of my revenge, if and when I find him, which is now, coincidentally. I’m sure his presence in this Milan bar has something to do with the large-scale New York mob family that’s currently in hiding in this city. There has been an increase in grand thefts and mysterious murders, and our intention is to take them down in one fell swoop. I’m working with the Italian government, but I’m sure I’m not the only one working on this case.
And now my suspicions have been confirmed by the fact that Joe is sitting at a bar less than fifteen feet from me, nursing what looks like an Amaretto stone sour. He hasn’t taken a drink from it the whole time I’ve been watching him, which tells me that he’s not really here to drink. I’ve been sipping dutifully at a Heineken, a little at a time over the course of a couple hours. It’s more than lukewarm by now, but it’s more for the sake of appearance than actual taste anyway, so it doesn’t really matter, as long as I’m putting forth the image of a casual drinker.
I wait until my drink is empty before pushing my chair back with a movement slow and deliberate, something he’s sure to notice with how watchful he is. I notice the slight change in his shoulders, the rigidity of his muscles, like he knows a confrontation of some kind is in order, and I scoff at the novice inability to hide anxiety.
I slide easily into the stool next to him, gesture toward the bartender to bring me another beer. He looks over at me with what I assume is supposed to be the casualness of any drinking man whose space has suddenly been slightly, and unnecessarily (since there are many empty barstools not immediately next to his own), invaded. He looks back down at his drink, swirling it with a slight smile. “Well, well. Who would’ve guessed I’d ever see you again?”
I shrug, roll my shoulders slightly. “Well, we do work in the same field. And our expertise is not one shared with many others. No, I’m not surprised we ran into each other, especially after your little stunt in my apartment. You have heard of karma, haven’t you? What goes around, comes around?”
Joe giggles in a way that I find annoyingly endearing, and he takes a nonchalant sip of his drink. “Oh, please, you were patronizing me from the moment we met. Someone had to knock you down a couple pegs. Don’t hate the playa; hate the game.”
I stare at him for a moment, completely baffled. He isn’t the same cautious man whose ass I saved all those months ago. I’m not sure why I’m surprised. He is a master of disguise after all; we’re both trained to nuance ourselves into anything we need to be. I pull my beer closer to me. “’Don’t hate the playa; hate the game’? What are you - sixteen?”
He grins at me. “You just have no sense of humor. That happens to spies sometimes, I know. It’s a very tragic thing. You’d think with a lifespan as short as ours, we’d find everything incredibly funny, wouldn’t you agree?”
It’s something remarkably sobering coming from him, but the point has been made, and I take it as graciously as I can without conceding to the fact that he’s funny - because he’s not, in any way. “What I’m trying to figure out is why you would tie me up and steal my data, when I openly suggested that we work together toward the same goal. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”
“That’s true, yeah.” He rocks his head from side to side and for a moment, I imagine him rocking it that same way while he was riding me, like he was thinking about each movement. I blush. He doesn’t seem to notice. “I think I was intimidated by you.” The statement leaves me confused and disconcerted. His former posturing has all but disappeared, and I’m unsure where my footing is. “You saved my ass, and I knew that you were more than successful as a spy, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you, so… I left.” His grin returns, along with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “I’m sure a wittle pair of handcuffs didn’t stop the big, bad spy, did they?”
I roll my eyes, take a swig of my beer and push myself to my feet, an action that makes alarm flash through his eyes. I have a gun pressed to his side and my mouth pressed to his ear in another moment, and I murmur, “Well, let’s see how you do with a pair of handcuffs, Mr. Big Bad Spy.”
I like his tension. He seems to think he’s in much more trouble than he actually is, but I’m not really in a mood to alleviate his fears. I’d rather let him suffer for a while; after all, he did handcuff me naked to my own bed so that I would have to call my agency to rescue me. Did I mention earlier that the only voice-activated phone system I have is video chat? Because it is. And calling my female boss (who is, like, a thousand years old, by the way) for assistance was not enjoyable, especially since she has a not-so-pleasant-for-me sense of humor that caused her to surreptitiously call some of the desk workers and tech guys into the office to see me in my inglorious nakedness. Really, it was just a lovely day.
Thinking about all this is making me seethe a little bit, and I’m probably rougher and less discreet than I intend to be as I steer him into an elevator. He has these eyes, shifting like he’s trying to think of an escape plan, but I think we both know that if I really intend for him to remain in my presence, he doesn’t have much of a choice.
“I’m not really sure what you plan to do with me.” Joe comments casually. “I’m pretty sure we’re on the same team, unless you’re working with the mob bosses. Actually, if you’re working for the government, we even have the same employer.” I don’t respond. I just push him out of the elevator on the penthouse floor and toward my room. His eyebrows lift. “Top floor? Fancy.”
The attitude makes me growl, and his chuckle lets me know that he’s heard it. I keep the gun on him, even as I move forward to swipe the key card and open the door. He allows me to push him inside and ends up flopping down on my leather couch like he’s been invited. My eyebrow quirks up. “You do realize that you’re not nearly as awesome a spy as you like to think.”
He tips his head from side to side, sprawls his arms on the back of the couch. “Yes, I know. But I feel victorious in knowing that you’re intrigued by me to the point that you want me to spend time alone with me like this, enough that you resorted to using a gun to get me here.” He bats his eyelashes, and Kevin is annoyed by how attractive he is.
“I just want to understand you.” He shrugs, sitting down in the armchair adjacent to him, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “I’m so frustrated that we could have taken that guy down much sooner than we had if you hadn’t stolen my notes and had worked together with me.”
Joe shrugs. “I already explained this to you.”
“Not in any way that makes sense. We work in espionage. Our job is to use whatever methods are best in order to retrieve information and use it to our advantage. Your ‘intimidation’ and need to ‘knock me down a few pegs’ were just mistakes.”
He at least has the courtesy to look sheepish at that. “Well, we got the guy anyway.” He murmurs, his cheeks glowing red. “So what’s your name on this one?” He leans forward, rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, tapping his fingers against his lips. “I’m Roger. I think it makes me sound like a pilot or something.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “I prefer Joe. I’m going to continue to call you that, I think, since that’s how you introduced yourself to me. I’m John this time around. I’ve been told I look like a John.”
“You do.” He agrees with a smile that makes me think we’re friends. “It’s a name that suits your nature - very serious and respectable.” He stands, and I tense, but then he’s straddling my lap, grinning as he dips his head to press our mouths together. “You know, John, I sort of like that you brought me up here so we can be alone.”
My eyes flutter as he kisses my neck. “This is highly inappropriate, considering I brought you up here to scold and possibly search you, since I know you can’t be trusted to your own devices.”
He sits back so I can see him rolling his eyes at me. “Well, you could search me while I’m naked. I’m sure you’ll find I have absolutely nothing to hide, hm?” I know it’s supposed to make me all hot to hear that, but for some reason, I just find it annoying. I stand up suddenly, sending him tumbling to the floor with an “’Mph!” of surprise.
“Do you sleep with everyone who threatens you or is that reserved just for the men?” My voice is cool, and that’s how I like it. It makes me feel stronger. I was too warm with him the first time around. That’s how he took advantage of me. I move across the floor to the bar, pour myself a scotch.
I hear him shifting behind me, and when I turn, with a drink for him as well, he’s sitting on the floor with his legs folded, a frown situated on his face like he’s thinking about my question. He takes the glass I hand him, stare down at it. “Most of the people who threaten me are men.” He muses, his voice unaffected. “I sleep with the ones who are attractive to me.”
“I’m flattered.” My voice holds a sarcasm that I can’t hide.
He rolls his eyes, unfolds himself from the floor and joins me on the couch, his legs curled under him, his arm draped across the backrest behind me. “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge me.” He points out. “I believe it wasn’t just I who slept with you, but you who slept with me as well.” He smiles slightly, toys with my hair, when he sees me shift. “And I have only slept with a few men. It’s not like every mission I have to get laid.”
“Good to know you have some work integrity.” I quip, sipping my drink. “Anyway, I slept with you because I find you attractive, which I assumed, at the time, was the reason you complied. I didn’t realize until later that it was just a ploy to get me off my guard.”
“It worked.” Joe points out, his grin impish. “Besides, I find you attractive as well. I believe I just propositioned you so that we could have a repeat performance.”
“You propositioned me because I’ve been calling you out on what a bad agent you are. You were trying to distract me.”
Joe sighs, kisses my cheek, and I want to wipe it off, but I think it would be more insulting than necessary. “I really don’t think using making use of all my assets makes me a bad agent. So I have sex to save my ass sometimes. I’m just using my body to my advantage.” He unfolds himself from the couch, takes my hand, and I let him pull me to my feet. “Since we’re meant to be teammates of a sort on this assignment, with our employer being the same and all, I don’t see why we can’t work together this time.” He presses in against me, and I allow that as well. His mouth falls against my neck. “And I don’t see why we can’t sleep together if we like each other.”
I make a noise of disbelief, but he tugs me back toward the bedroom and sits me down on the edge of the bed. He kneels between my legs, and my muscles tense. “What are you doing? I didn’t agree to this.”
“You came to the bedroom with me.” Joe chuckles, rubbing my thighs. “You more than agreed. Just relax and enjoy it, would you? I like you much better when you don’t talk so much.” I huff, and he grins up at me, kisses my stomach once he’s parted the fly of my dress pants. “You really are very beautiful.” He comments quietly, and I blush. “And when you kissed me, in your apartment that night, I just didn’t want to say no.” He sighs quietly, his fingers wrapped around my cock, stroking slowly. “Really, you wanted to have sex with me just because you liked me, and I get why you’re affronted by my actions afterwards.”
It weirdly sounds like an apology, and I lean back on my hands to watch him. His lips press to the tip, slowly part so his tongue can lap, and I close my eyes. I don’t get as much action as he seems to think I do. I mean, I could, if I wanted to, but it just doesn’t ever seem like a good thing to do. With him, in that moment, it did, and I think that’s why it bothers me so much to know I was just another fuck. And yes, I understand that I’m too old to think like that, but seriously, it’s just an annoying thing to think about. So I stop thinking about it. I focus instead on the feeling of his mouth slowly lowering onto my cock as my hips thrust up, the way his eyes flutter and his voice starts up with a low moan in his throat.
His mouth is warm and wet, and his fingers claw lightly at my pants, trying to pull them down further. I appreciate his enthusiasm and lift my hips to let him get them off my hips. He lifts his head, his fingers curling around me to stroke me slowly as he smiles. “You’ve gotten really quiet.” He notes. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
“You told me you like me better when I don’t talk.” I shrug, and he chuckles, rocking up to his feet. I watch him as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, moving over to hang it on the back of my desk chair. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting undressed.” He makes a face at me. “Most people do that when they’re going to have sex, you know. You should probably do so too, you know - not that it wouldn’t be hot if you fucked me with just your cock out.” He winks.
I blush, coughing lightly, and it’s a new thing for me: feeling bashful, embarrassed around someone I find attractive. I’ve never had this problem. I’ve always been fairly confident. There’s no room for faltering in my profession. I know Joe has that same self-confidence, just by his actions here today. Still, I get undressed, fold my clothes and set them aside because he told me I should.
He’s crawling onto the bed now, naked, and flopping down onto his back with a giggle and a stretch toward the headboard, and holy fuck, I forgot how good he looks naked, all smooth skin and sharp curves of muscle. I’ve never had to be talked into a sexual encounter quite like this, so when I join him, I’m happy that he just presses up against me and brings our mouths together, his fingers curling in my hair.
He has this way of being sweet that I like, his hand rubbing against my chest like he’s soothing me, and it doesn’t really fit his personality, except that everything about him today has been different than last time I was with him, so I’m not sure what I should expect from him, except a never-ending kind of sex drive. When he rolls me onto my back and straddles my hips, I’m not surprised.
It’s only a few minutes later, after he’s pressed down onto my fingers with a few keening moans and gasps that lead me to believe he’s actually enjoying himself, that he’s sliding down onto me, and I’m holding onto his hips as he begins to rock. I’m on my guard with him. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of allowing myself to actually think he’s being sincere. He tricked me once already. Letting it happen again doesn’t sound like a good thing to do. But still, he’s beautiful, and his fingers are clawing at my chest, and it’s hard to not get a little wrapped up in it.
It’s not quite the same as last time, though a lot of it seems like it is. When he’s getting close, his voice slides out of his throat in little whines, his fingers wrapping around his cock to stroke quickly. His other hand grips at my shoulder, and he leans down to press our mouths together. He bites my tongue when he comes, and it’s almost sexy, in a painful sort of way, and then he’s rolling off of me onto his stomach, his breath coming in soft pants. “Come on, love…” He spreads his legs, his eyes glowing with mischief.
I chuckle and roll over on top of him, pressing inside of him again, and he clutches the sheets, his eyes falling closed as I rock into him. I kiss his neck, holding onto him, and when I come a few moments later, I bite down on his skin, and he gives this little mewl that I really enjoy. We remain in that position for a while longer, just breathing, and then I roll off of him.
He wiggles over closer to me, rests his chin on my chest, rubbing my stomach. “Hi.” His voice is quiet, and he presses a kiss to my jaw. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I haven’t drugged you and run off.”
“Not yet.” I quip, smiling. “I could send your clothes out for dry-cleaning if you want to stay the night.”
“Ooh.” Joe giggles, nuzzles my cheek. His voice is soft, warm, when he speaks again. “I would love to.”
I get out of bed and find it’s not quite late enough for the hotel staff to mind me calling them to take our dress clothes down. I pay the bellboy a little extra to “lose” Joe’s suit. In the morning, he’s innocently apologetic about the dry cleaner’s error, and Joe stands in a bathrobe looking dismayed. When he tries on some of my clothes, they’re too small for him; he’s built broader than I am. He returns to his own hotel wearing nothing but that bathrobe and his boxers.
Revenge may be immature, but it is incredibly sweet.
Anyway, it’s been a few months since then, and while the anger mostly faded to some sort of admiration at being able to outsmart me, the instinctive need for revenge didn’t really leave me. Unfortunately, the chances of seeing him again were slim. The man we had both been working to take down had died by his own devices, in a chemical explosion in one of his own labs, which was ironic and almost too easy, so naturally, we swarmed in and took over and arrested basically everyone. I didn’t see Joe throughout that.
And, yeah, I know that’s not really his name, but I don’t know what else to call him; that was how he introduced himself to me and there’s something about his sharp jaw and dark eyelashes that make a name that would make it so that a name any less ordinary wouldn’t suit him. He’s so beautiful, in that way that most people aren’t beautiful, and I think if he had a name that fit that beauty, I wouldn’t be as interested in him.
Not that I am interested in him. The kid’s just a happy target of my revenge, if and when I find him, which is now, coincidentally. I’m sure his presence in this Milan bar has something to do with the large-scale New York mob family that’s currently in hiding in this city. There has been an increase in grand thefts and mysterious murders, and our intention is to take them down in one fell swoop. I’m working with the Italian government, but I’m sure I’m not the only one working on this case.
And now my suspicions have been confirmed by the fact that Joe is sitting at a bar less than fifteen feet from me, nursing what looks like an Amaretto stone sour. He hasn’t taken a drink from it the whole time I’ve been watching him, which tells me that he’s not really here to drink. I’ve been sipping dutifully at a Heineken, a little at a time over the course of a couple hours. It’s more than lukewarm by now, but it’s more for the sake of appearance than actual taste anyway, so it doesn’t really matter, as long as I’m putting forth the image of a casual drinker.
I wait until my drink is empty before pushing my chair back with a movement slow and deliberate, something he’s sure to notice with how watchful he is. I notice the slight change in his shoulders, the rigidity of his muscles, like he knows a confrontation of some kind is in order, and I scoff at the novice inability to hide anxiety.
I slide easily into the stool next to him, gesture toward the bartender to bring me another beer. He looks over at me with what I assume is supposed to be the casualness of any drinking man whose space has suddenly been slightly, and unnecessarily (since there are many empty barstools not immediately next to his own), invaded. He looks back down at his drink, swirling it with a slight smile. “Well, well. Who would’ve guessed I’d ever see you again?”
I shrug, roll my shoulders slightly. “Well, we do work in the same field. And our expertise is not one shared with many others. No, I’m not surprised we ran into each other, especially after your little stunt in my apartment. You have heard of karma, haven’t you? What goes around, comes around?”
Joe giggles in a way that I find annoyingly endearing, and he takes a nonchalant sip of his drink. “Oh, please, you were patronizing me from the moment we met. Someone had to knock you down a couple pegs. Don’t hate the playa; hate the game.”
I stare at him for a moment, completely baffled. He isn’t the same cautious man whose ass I saved all those months ago. I’m not sure why I’m surprised. He is a master of disguise after all; we’re both trained to nuance ourselves into anything we need to be. I pull my beer closer to me. “’Don’t hate the playa; hate the game’? What are you - sixteen?”
He grins at me. “You just have no sense of humor. That happens to spies sometimes, I know. It’s a very tragic thing. You’d think with a lifespan as short as ours, we’d find everything incredibly funny, wouldn’t you agree?”
It’s something remarkably sobering coming from him, but the point has been made, and I take it as graciously as I can without conceding to the fact that he’s funny - because he’s not, in any way. “What I’m trying to figure out is why you would tie me up and steal my data, when I openly suggested that we work together toward the same goal. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”
“That’s true, yeah.” He rocks his head from side to side and for a moment, I imagine him rocking it that same way while he was riding me, like he was thinking about each movement. I blush. He doesn’t seem to notice. “I think I was intimidated by you.” The statement leaves me confused and disconcerted. His former posturing has all but disappeared, and I’m unsure where my footing is. “You saved my ass, and I knew that you were more than successful as a spy, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you, so… I left.” His grin returns, along with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “I’m sure a wittle pair of handcuffs didn’t stop the big, bad spy, did they?”
I roll my eyes, take a swig of my beer and push myself to my feet, an action that makes alarm flash through his eyes. I have a gun pressed to his side and my mouth pressed to his ear in another moment, and I murmur, “Well, let’s see how you do with a pair of handcuffs, Mr. Big Bad Spy.”
I like his tension. He seems to think he’s in much more trouble than he actually is, but I’m not really in a mood to alleviate his fears. I’d rather let him suffer for a while; after all, he did handcuff me naked to my own bed so that I would have to call my agency to rescue me. Did I mention earlier that the only voice-activated phone system I have is video chat? Because it is. And calling my female boss (who is, like, a thousand years old, by the way) for assistance was not enjoyable, especially since she has a not-so-pleasant-for-me sense of humor that caused her to surreptitiously call some of the desk workers and tech guys into the office to see me in my inglorious nakedness. Really, it was just a lovely day.
Thinking about all this is making me seethe a little bit, and I’m probably rougher and less discreet than I intend to be as I steer him into an elevator. He has these eyes, shifting like he’s trying to think of an escape plan, but I think we both know that if I really intend for him to remain in my presence, he doesn’t have much of a choice.
“I’m not really sure what you plan to do with me.” Joe comments casually. “I’m pretty sure we’re on the same team, unless you’re working with the mob bosses. Actually, if you’re working for the government, we even have the same employer.” I don’t respond. I just push him out of the elevator on the penthouse floor and toward my room. His eyebrows lift. “Top floor? Fancy.”
The attitude makes me growl, and his chuckle lets me know that he’s heard it. I keep the gun on him, even as I move forward to swipe the key card and open the door. He allows me to push him inside and ends up flopping down on my leather couch like he’s been invited. My eyebrow quirks up. “You do realize that you’re not nearly as awesome a spy as you like to think.”
He tips his head from side to side, sprawls his arms on the back of the couch. “Yes, I know. But I feel victorious in knowing that you’re intrigued by me to the point that you want me to spend time alone with me like this, enough that you resorted to using a gun to get me here.” He bats his eyelashes, and Kevin is annoyed by how attractive he is.
“I just want to understand you.” He shrugs, sitting down in the armchair adjacent to him, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “I’m so frustrated that we could have taken that guy down much sooner than we had if you hadn’t stolen my notes and had worked together with me.”
Joe shrugs. “I already explained this to you.”
“Not in any way that makes sense. We work in espionage. Our job is to use whatever methods are best in order to retrieve information and use it to our advantage. Your ‘intimidation’ and need to ‘knock me down a few pegs’ were just mistakes.”
He at least has the courtesy to look sheepish at that. “Well, we got the guy anyway.” He murmurs, his cheeks glowing red. “So what’s your name on this one?” He leans forward, rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, tapping his fingers against his lips. “I’m Roger. I think it makes me sound like a pilot or something.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “I prefer Joe. I’m going to continue to call you that, I think, since that’s how you introduced yourself to me. I’m John this time around. I’ve been told I look like a John.”
“You do.” He agrees with a smile that makes me think we’re friends. “It’s a name that suits your nature - very serious and respectable.” He stands, and I tense, but then he’s straddling my lap, grinning as he dips his head to press our mouths together. “You know, John, I sort of like that you brought me up here so we can be alone.”
My eyes flutter as he kisses my neck. “This is highly inappropriate, considering I brought you up here to scold and possibly search you, since I know you can’t be trusted to your own devices.”
He sits back so I can see him rolling his eyes at me. “Well, you could search me while I’m naked. I’m sure you’ll find I have absolutely nothing to hide, hm?” I know it’s supposed to make me all hot to hear that, but for some reason, I just find it annoying. I stand up suddenly, sending him tumbling to the floor with an “’Mph!” of surprise.
“Do you sleep with everyone who threatens you or is that reserved just for the men?” My voice is cool, and that’s how I like it. It makes me feel stronger. I was too warm with him the first time around. That’s how he took advantage of me. I move across the floor to the bar, pour myself a scotch.
I hear him shifting behind me, and when I turn, with a drink for him as well, he’s sitting on the floor with his legs folded, a frown situated on his face like he’s thinking about my question. He takes the glass I hand him, stare down at it. “Most of the people who threaten me are men.” He muses, his voice unaffected. “I sleep with the ones who are attractive to me.”
“I’m flattered.” My voice holds a sarcasm that I can’t hide.
He rolls his eyes, unfolds himself from the floor and joins me on the couch, his legs curled under him, his arm draped across the backrest behind me. “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge me.” He points out. “I believe it wasn’t just I who slept with you, but you who slept with me as well.” He smiles slightly, toys with my hair, when he sees me shift. “And I have only slept with a few men. It’s not like every mission I have to get laid.”
“Good to know you have some work integrity.” I quip, sipping my drink. “Anyway, I slept with you because I find you attractive, which I assumed, at the time, was the reason you complied. I didn’t realize until later that it was just a ploy to get me off my guard.”
“It worked.” Joe points out, his grin impish. “Besides, I find you attractive as well. I believe I just propositioned you so that we could have a repeat performance.”
“You propositioned me because I’ve been calling you out on what a bad agent you are. You were trying to distract me.”
Joe sighs, kisses my cheek, and I want to wipe it off, but I think it would be more insulting than necessary. “I really don’t think using making use of all my assets makes me a bad agent. So I have sex to save my ass sometimes. I’m just using my body to my advantage.” He unfolds himself from the couch, takes my hand, and I let him pull me to my feet. “Since we’re meant to be teammates of a sort on this assignment, with our employer being the same and all, I don’t see why we can’t work together this time.” He presses in against me, and I allow that as well. His mouth falls against my neck. “And I don’t see why we can’t sleep together if we like each other.”
I make a noise of disbelief, but he tugs me back toward the bedroom and sits me down on the edge of the bed. He kneels between my legs, and my muscles tense. “What are you doing? I didn’t agree to this.”
“You came to the bedroom with me.” Joe chuckles, rubbing my thighs. “You more than agreed. Just relax and enjoy it, would you? I like you much better when you don’t talk so much.” I huff, and he grins up at me, kisses my stomach once he’s parted the fly of my dress pants. “You really are very beautiful.” He comments quietly, and I blush. “And when you kissed me, in your apartment that night, I just didn’t want to say no.” He sighs quietly, his fingers wrapped around my cock, stroking slowly. “Really, you wanted to have sex with me just because you liked me, and I get why you’re affronted by my actions afterwards.”
It weirdly sounds like an apology, and I lean back on my hands to watch him. His lips press to the tip, slowly part so his tongue can lap, and I close my eyes. I don’t get as much action as he seems to think I do. I mean, I could, if I wanted to, but it just doesn’t ever seem like a good thing to do. With him, in that moment, it did, and I think that’s why it bothers me so much to know I was just another fuck. And yes, I understand that I’m too old to think like that, but seriously, it’s just an annoying thing to think about. So I stop thinking about it. I focus instead on the feeling of his mouth slowly lowering onto my cock as my hips thrust up, the way his eyes flutter and his voice starts up with a low moan in his throat.
His mouth is warm and wet, and his fingers claw lightly at my pants, trying to pull them down further. I appreciate his enthusiasm and lift my hips to let him get them off my hips. He lifts his head, his fingers curling around me to stroke me slowly as he smiles. “You’ve gotten really quiet.” He notes. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
“You told me you like me better when I don’t talk.” I shrug, and he chuckles, rocking up to his feet. I watch him as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, moving over to hang it on the back of my desk chair. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting undressed.” He makes a face at me. “Most people do that when they’re going to have sex, you know. You should probably do so too, you know - not that it wouldn’t be hot if you fucked me with just your cock out.” He winks.
I blush, coughing lightly, and it’s a new thing for me: feeling bashful, embarrassed around someone I find attractive. I’ve never had this problem. I’ve always been fairly confident. There’s no room for faltering in my profession. I know Joe has that same self-confidence, just by his actions here today. Still, I get undressed, fold my clothes and set them aside because he told me I should.
He’s crawling onto the bed now, naked, and flopping down onto his back with a giggle and a stretch toward the headboard, and holy fuck, I forgot how good he looks naked, all smooth skin and sharp curves of muscle. I’ve never had to be talked into a sexual encounter quite like this, so when I join him, I’m happy that he just presses up against me and brings our mouths together, his fingers curling in my hair.
He has this way of being sweet that I like, his hand rubbing against my chest like he’s soothing me, and it doesn’t really fit his personality, except that everything about him today has been different than last time I was with him, so I’m not sure what I should expect from him, except a never-ending kind of sex drive. When he rolls me onto my back and straddles my hips, I’m not surprised.
It’s only a few minutes later, after he’s pressed down onto my fingers with a few keening moans and gasps that lead me to believe he’s actually enjoying himself, that he’s sliding down onto me, and I’m holding onto his hips as he begins to rock. I’m on my guard with him. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of allowing myself to actually think he’s being sincere. He tricked me once already. Letting it happen again doesn’t sound like a good thing to do. But still, he’s beautiful, and his fingers are clawing at my chest, and it’s hard to not get a little wrapped up in it.
It’s not quite the same as last time, though a lot of it seems like it is. When he’s getting close, his voice slides out of his throat in little whines, his fingers wrapping around his cock to stroke quickly. His other hand grips at my shoulder, and he leans down to press our mouths together. He bites my tongue when he comes, and it’s almost sexy, in a painful sort of way, and then he’s rolling off of me onto his stomach, his breath coming in soft pants. “Come on, love…” He spreads his legs, his eyes glowing with mischief.
I chuckle and roll over on top of him, pressing inside of him again, and he clutches the sheets, his eyes falling closed as I rock into him. I kiss his neck, holding onto him, and when I come a few moments later, I bite down on his skin, and he gives this little mewl that I really enjoy. We remain in that position for a while longer, just breathing, and then I roll off of him.
He wiggles over closer to me, rests his chin on my chest, rubbing my stomach. “Hi.” His voice is quiet, and he presses a kiss to my jaw. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I haven’t drugged you and run off.”
“Not yet.” I quip, smiling. “I could send your clothes out for dry-cleaning if you want to stay the night.”
“Ooh.” Joe giggles, nuzzles my cheek. His voice is soft, warm, when he speaks again. “I would love to.”
I get out of bed and find it’s not quite late enough for the hotel staff to mind me calling them to take our dress clothes down. I pay the bellboy a little extra to “lose” Joe’s suit. In the morning, he’s innocently apologetic about the dry cleaner’s error, and Joe stands in a bathrobe looking dismayed. When he tries on some of my clothes, they’re too small for him; he’s built broader than I am. He returns to his own hotel wearing nothing but that bathrobe and his boxers.
Revenge may be immature, but it is incredibly sweet.