Belonging
Title: Belonging
Series: Coda
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Warnings/Spoilers: Sex. Set during To The Last Man episode
Disclaimer: None of them are mine. Dammit.
Beta: Aquila and Clarrisani
Summary: Jack and Ianto during and after the scene in Jack's Office. Jack's point of view.
A/N: Blame Aquila for this. She linked me to cowboyhd's flash animation of the TLLM kiss which plays on a continual loop. I then started wondering about what happened after and this plot bunny leaped out at me.
Why is it that every time it all comes down to paperwork? A never-ending stream.
I can hear his shoes on the concrete steps.
He thinks he is quiet, but I know this Hub and I know all the sounds. Most importantly I know the sound of him. I know the smell of him.
“This time tomorrow, he'll be back in 1918,” I tell him.
I can feel his presence behind me in the room; I keep at the papers, trying to look busy.
“In his own time,” Ianto agrees with me. “Would you go back to yours? If you could?”
I pause, looking up at the wall, at nothing. Do I dissemble? Do I lie? I smile at the thought of honesty.
“Why?” My voice drops a few octaves and I try to steady it, try not to give away how important his answer is to me. “Would you miss me?”
Will he answer? Or will he, as with most of our conversations, dance around feelings, emotions and truths?
I shouldn’t have asked it but I want to know. After seeing the heartbreak on Tosh’s face earlier and having to force her to confront losing someone she cares about, all I can think about is belonging. Where do I belong? In the future? In the past? Here?
“Yep,” he says in that delicious accent. Clipped and oh so young.
I can feel him come closer.
I put down the paper work, but I can’t look at him yet. I sigh.
“I left home a long time ago. I don't really know where I really belong.” If we are going for honesty here, I should go the whole way.
I pick up the rest of the instructions for Tommy. The old parchment crackling in my hands, that familiar handwriting, how I miss Gerald and Harriet! Will he see the invite I am giving him? “Maybe that doesn't matter any more.” I say as I look up.
“I - know you get lonely,” he tells me. There is my observant Welshman.
He sits on the desk now as I close the folder. He is here, work is over for the night.
I clasp my hands as I look at him. He is wearing that blank expression of his as he holds himself in check, tries to hide his emotions.
“Going home wouldn't fix that.” I look away now, I can’t look at him, this is too raw. I shake my head.
“Being here, I've seen things I never dreamt I'd see,” this world is amazing and it is the people that I meet that make it so.
“Loved people I never would have known if I'd just stayed where I was.” I look at him now. He isn’t looking at me. Does he think he isn’t on that list?
Look at me Ianto, with those clear blue eyes that see through my act on a regular basis. See me now, Ianto. See me for real.
“And I wouldn't change that for the world,” I tell him.
We stare, for what feels like forever. I know what forever feels like and I want it to end.
He leans towards me, seeming to have made up his mind to end my waiting.
He cups the back of my neck and I raise my head, wanting his kiss. I watch him as he kisses me. He brings up his other hand to hold me. I close my eyes and feel his passion.
I have to touch him. I reach up and caress his shoulders, gripping and feeling the rough wool of his suit under my hands. His hands flicker over my chin, my ear. The tips of his fingers sliding along my neck into my hair, Gods, as he grips and slides his hands it matches his tongue sliding in and possessing me. He leads and I follow.
I want to feel his skin, his warmth.
I cradle his face, now it is the roughness of his stubble that I feel under my hands. It has been a long day for us all, but perhaps in those arms of his I can forget about the tragedy of tomorrow.
I feel his nose, that little upturn being even more upturned as he pushes in closer to me.
These are no gentle romantic kisses. This is passion that burns and gets hotter with each one. I will have him tonight.
I have loved and lost too much. I will not lose this again.
We fit together, this 21st Century man and I. He is stronger than he thinks and I need his strength. How does he know when I need to let go?
I need to feel more.
I could keep kissing him for the rest of the night, but I need more. I need to show him what I need and what I can give.
I rise up from the chair and press into him.
I feel his surprise in the tightening of his hands on my face, in the hesitation of his tongue. Time for me to show him what I feel.
I press my chest to his. Too many clothes. My arms wrap around him as I pull him in close.
I card my fingers through his hair. I remember the little curls at the base of his neck that he tries to control.
There is an awkward moment as he tries to open his legs to allow me to press closer.
His leg bumps mine as I get the hint and move back slightly to allow him to slide it along mine. His knee bumps me. We are not graceful by any means.
Now I get what I want, I feel him against me, his cock hard and pushing out his trousers.
Most definitely too many clothes. Short of breath now.
I’m standing to attention, I had been almost from the moment he kissed me with that intent look on his face.
Again our lips part and come together. We take the opportunity to draw in a quick breath so we can continue the slide against and around and in each others mouth.
I am pushing him back down towards the desktop. I want him naked and wanton. I have him wanton.
“Stay?” I ask him. My voice quiet in the room, deep.
Before he can answer I kiss him again. I don’t want to let go. It was an effort just to break away to speak that. I feel the air rushing in and out of his body, over my cheek from his nose, into my mouth from his.
I feel his hands slide down my neck and under my braces. Yes, naked soon.
He grips and pulls them down my arms.
I am surprised as he pushes up at the same time. He slides off the desk, flush against me. I am driven backwards. My arms are around his waist, where he has trapped them with my braces. I stumble as he directs me.
I feel my chair spinning gently as we knock it in our haste. I will have a bruise there tomorrow, but not as good as the one across my arse as he pushes me forcefully up against the window.
Yes.
Some frantic movements from both of us and my arms are free. Now it is my turn.
The jacket has to go. Still we kiss and nip and lick. Lips swollen and sore. I work the jacket off his shoulders as he continues to attack the buttons on my shirt.
He will get me naked quicker than I will get him. Can’t have that.
Jacket gone. Tie is next.
I want to taste him more. I break away.
“Ahhh,” he moans as I lick the underside of his jaw. I taste the sweat of the day, his hairs tickle across my tongue, rough and oh so masculine.
Tie is gone now and I need to open his shirt. I want to press my face into the base of his throat. I want...
He beats me to it again. It is he that sucks in my skin, that delightful pressure. My shirt is gone, when did that happen? His hands, those hot hands, those long fingers are snaking up my belly. I press into him. He groans again. I love those sounds he makes as his body loses control.
He is going to expose my skin and I want to feel him. I pull at his shirt, undoing and ripping buttons. I will be in trouble later but now, don’t care. Must feel him.
Don’t think, do.
I get his shirt open and my hands on those shoulders of his, ready to push down when he reaches my chest and pinches my nipples.
The pain. The pleasure.
I stop breathing for a moment and then it is all frantic movement as I want my arms down to remove his shirt and he wants my arms up to remove my t-shirt.
He wins. I lift my arms. He pulls and it flicks under my chin, over my nose. It is not a removal of clothes like in the movies. Not sweet seduction. This is raw, this is sex, this is now.
His arms in the air along side mine. He throws my shirt away and I take the opportunity to open my eyes. His face is flushed. A strain of red along those cheekbones, both breathing strongly through our noses. We pause. I with my arms still in the air, he with his arms down at this side.
That chest. Broad, masculine, the fine tufts of hair across his pectorals. I remember my anatomy lessons, I know all the names of the muscles and the bones. I don’t care, I don’t need that knowledge now. I have all the knowledge I need. He drives me mad.
I quickly lower my arms to grab at his shirt and pull it off. He needs to be as naked as I. His cuffs are a problem.
My fingers slip and slide and miss. I get frustrated and then he makes it worse.
He drops his head and sucks at my chest.
I grab tight to his wrists as his tongue swipes across and then is followed by air blown over where he has just licked.
I know I am marking him for tomorrow, but he is marking me too. He bites and then sucks. I will bruise but in the best possible way.
My head thrown back, I don’t care about the window behind and if it wasn’t for the ledge I would have likely cracked my head open.
He pushes his groin into mine, I feel the heat on my cock and on my arse I feel the square edge and coolness of the ledge.
I finally get the buttons open on his cuffs and his shirt is off.
I grab his arse, my hands were made for that arse. Pert, round and fits perfectly into my palms.
We are back kissing. His hands are gripping my hips and then he drives me insane. He removes his cock from where it was pressed into mine.
I whimper at the loss of the pressure and then his hands replace it.
Yes!
Fingers on my belt, brushing against my mini captain who leaps to parade attention each time he touches me. Then those fingers are sliding in the gap. When did he undo my fly? I am leaking and his clever fingers spread the moisture over my briefs.
I try to pull him closer but he is having none of it.
He gets his hands under my briefs and he is pulling them down, my cock catches and pulls as he is none too gentle.
He starts to drop down and I get my hands under his arse and keep him upright. Now he is pressed up against me again. Before it was my hands that felt his rough wool, now it is my sensitive cock.
I rut against him, there is no other way to describe it. He joins in the motion back. Animalistic, raw and delicious.
Each motion brings me closer to the edge. I know what will send me over.
I push him away. He stumbles back to the desk.
He looks at me again, with that intense stare. I try to step forward but am restricted by the pants around my ankles and for once I curse my boots.
“Off! Now!” I point at his pants as I bend down to scramble at my laces.
Heaven knows what we would look like to anyone walking in at that moment. Me with my bare arse in the air as I struggle with simple knots. I get them off as I see his shoes hit the floor with a thump. Socks are next and then the pants are off. I stand and smile at him, completely naked.
Now I am completely undone as he leans back against the desk, naked. His pale skin glowing from the lamp behind him. His eyes dark and I marvel again at how such clear eyes can darken so easily. I do that to him.
I want to take him over that desk. I want him to take me.
I leap forward and grab his hand. I push the chair out of the way as I pull him towards the manhole on the floor of my office. He knows I love to say manhole and I can hear him swearing under his breath about me being a child every time I do.
I let go of his hand as I jump straight down onto the bed. I quickly get off it and bend over to pull open the drawer on my bedside table. I know exactly what I want and as soon as it is in my hand, I am turning to smile at him, waving the tube of lube in the air.
“Have me,” I tell him.
He pauses, and then speaks. “Oh yes.”
I am pounced upon. I am twisted and thoroughly kissed again.
I end up on the bed. I can’t remember how he did it, but he did it without either of us getting more bruises.
Legs tangled and more rubbing ensues. I grab for that arse again. It is just too pert and tempting.
His chest hair brushes against my smooth skin. Sweat making his hairs stick together. His course pubic hair rubs against my groin and I love the feel of it. The contrast.
I drop my head back, offering my throat again from his ministrations.
He takes my offering and I know I will probably need to do up my shirt tomorrow.
He moves my legs apart by using his. I angle up, bucking against him.
Then he is pressing into me and I hiss at the delicious burn.
This is what his early kisses promised. The burn, the pain, the pleasure and the completion. I want everything from him.
I drop my legs wider as he rests his forehead on my chest. Sweat dripping off him in concentration.
“Now!” I tell him impatiently, thrusting upwards again.
He raises his head to smile at me. “Greedy,” he accuses me.
He is right and he knows it. But he raises up and positions himself. I drop one leg and use the other to raise myself up. I am cool and hot down there all at once. I want to feel the burn.
He gives it to me. Slow and annoying and I want all of him. He ignores my hissed instruction and continues at his pace.
We stare and then he is there. All the way in, every thick hard inch of him. My hands twist in the sheets, the thin blanket rough against my back, but all I want to concentrate on is the feel of him in my arse.
Then he starts to move and I am lost. In and out. Slow at first and then his breathing becomes ragged to match mine and I am pushing against him.
We don’t get the rhythm right to start off with but then a slide and a push at the right time and now it is fast. It is short, sharp movements, just a small thrust of his hips.
Then they become long, agonising, maddening thrusts. Back to sharp and fast just when I am at the point of grabbing him and rolling him over, if we weren’t in danger of ending up on the floor or into the wall.
I open as wide as I can, he hits my prostrate and the bunch of nerves shoot their pleasure. He thrusts again, missing. Not every thrust connects, some come close and then the angle changes and he’s got it.
My hands are in the sheets, in his hair, roaming over his body and then
on my own cock.
“Yes,” he hisses as he watches me rub and stroke myself in time with him. I am wet and leaking, but it isn’t enough. I raise my hand and he leans to lick my palm. Then I am back to stroking myself with his spit, my precum and I am losing it.
The feeling of his cock is unbearable in my arse and I am as wide as I can be in that bed. His balls slapping against me. The sounds in the room unmistakably of sex.
God how I love sex. No hiding, just pleasure and seeking and fulfilling.
And I lose it finally. I shout I don’t know what. I squeeze hard as I spurt over myself, drawing out the orgasm. I plant my feet, push up and squeeze him. Letting the thrusts and pulses of my body draw him in deeper.
He speeds up to milk the orgasm for himself. Then he stops, one final thrust and as I am coming down, the room returning to it’s natural colours, I feel him. Coming. Releasing into me.
A bead of sweat drips down his face. His head is lowered from his exertions. I watch the bead. As it nears his chin I reach a hand up to wipe it off and I bring it to my mouth to taste. The smell of his sweat and my come, one of the best things ever.
I open my eyes to see him staring at me. We both move at the same time. Another devouring kiss. How we have the breath to do this for as long as we do I don’t know.
I have raised up to meet him and I feel my seed blending with the sweat on his chest. I can imagine the white liquid mixing into the hairs on his body and the sweat. Combining still.
I feel him start to soften and leaking out of me. It runs down my arse cheeks onto the blanket below.
He sighs and withdraws.
On all fours he takes a deep breath, looks at me and then gets up and leaves the room.
As he goes to get a cloth from my bathroom to clean us both up I watch the space for him to return.
Did he understand? Did he get the message?
I love him.
His youth, his anger, his sarcasm, his resourcefulness, his suits, his calm, his strength, his tongue, his arse, his hands, his gentleness, his stopwatch, (well it was mine, but possession is nine tenths of the law apparently), his loyalty and the honour and old worldliness he carries about him.
He is broken.
I am broken.
Together we might be fixed.
We might be whole.
Series: Coda
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Warnings/Spoilers: Sex. Set during To The Last Man episode
Disclaimer: None of them are mine. Dammit.
Beta: Aquila and Clarrisani
Summary: Jack and Ianto during and after the scene in Jack's Office. Jack's point of view.
A/N: Blame Aquila for this. She linked me to cowboyhd's flash animation of the TLLM kiss which plays on a continual loop. I then started wondering about what happened after and this plot bunny leaped out at me.
Why is it that every time it all comes down to paperwork? A never-ending stream.
I can hear his shoes on the concrete steps.
He thinks he is quiet, but I know this Hub and I know all the sounds. Most importantly I know the sound of him. I know the smell of him.
“This time tomorrow, he'll be back in 1918,” I tell him.
I can feel his presence behind me in the room; I keep at the papers, trying to look busy.
“In his own time,” Ianto agrees with me. “Would you go back to yours? If you could?”
I pause, looking up at the wall, at nothing. Do I dissemble? Do I lie? I smile at the thought of honesty.
“Why?” My voice drops a few octaves and I try to steady it, try not to give away how important his answer is to me. “Would you miss me?”
Will he answer? Or will he, as with most of our conversations, dance around feelings, emotions and truths?
I shouldn’t have asked it but I want to know. After seeing the heartbreak on Tosh’s face earlier and having to force her to confront losing someone she cares about, all I can think about is belonging. Where do I belong? In the future? In the past? Here?
“Yep,” he says in that delicious accent. Clipped and oh so young.
I can feel him come closer.
I put down the paper work, but I can’t look at him yet. I sigh.
“I left home a long time ago. I don't really know where I really belong.” If we are going for honesty here, I should go the whole way.
I pick up the rest of the instructions for Tommy. The old parchment crackling in my hands, that familiar handwriting, how I miss Gerald and Harriet! Will he see the invite I am giving him? “Maybe that doesn't matter any more.” I say as I look up.
“I - know you get lonely,” he tells me. There is my observant Welshman.
He sits on the desk now as I close the folder. He is here, work is over for the night.
I clasp my hands as I look at him. He is wearing that blank expression of his as he holds himself in check, tries to hide his emotions.
“Going home wouldn't fix that.” I look away now, I can’t look at him, this is too raw. I shake my head.
“Being here, I've seen things I never dreamt I'd see,” this world is amazing and it is the people that I meet that make it so.
“Loved people I never would have known if I'd just stayed where I was.” I look at him now. He isn’t looking at me. Does he think he isn’t on that list?
Look at me Ianto, with those clear blue eyes that see through my act on a regular basis. See me now, Ianto. See me for real.
“And I wouldn't change that for the world,” I tell him.
We stare, for what feels like forever. I know what forever feels like and I want it to end.
He leans towards me, seeming to have made up his mind to end my waiting.
He cups the back of my neck and I raise my head, wanting his kiss. I watch him as he kisses me. He brings up his other hand to hold me. I close my eyes and feel his passion.
I have to touch him. I reach up and caress his shoulders, gripping and feeling the rough wool of his suit under my hands. His hands flicker over my chin, my ear. The tips of his fingers sliding along my neck into my hair, Gods, as he grips and slides his hands it matches his tongue sliding in and possessing me. He leads and I follow.
I want to feel his skin, his warmth.
I cradle his face, now it is the roughness of his stubble that I feel under my hands. It has been a long day for us all, but perhaps in those arms of his I can forget about the tragedy of tomorrow.
I feel his nose, that little upturn being even more upturned as he pushes in closer to me.
These are no gentle romantic kisses. This is passion that burns and gets hotter with each one. I will have him tonight.
I have loved and lost too much. I will not lose this again.
We fit together, this 21st Century man and I. He is stronger than he thinks and I need his strength. How does he know when I need to let go?
I need to feel more.
I could keep kissing him for the rest of the night, but I need more. I need to show him what I need and what I can give.
I rise up from the chair and press into him.
I feel his surprise in the tightening of his hands on my face, in the hesitation of his tongue. Time for me to show him what I feel.
I press my chest to his. Too many clothes. My arms wrap around him as I pull him in close.
I card my fingers through his hair. I remember the little curls at the base of his neck that he tries to control.
There is an awkward moment as he tries to open his legs to allow me to press closer.
His leg bumps mine as I get the hint and move back slightly to allow him to slide it along mine. His knee bumps me. We are not graceful by any means.
Now I get what I want, I feel him against me, his cock hard and pushing out his trousers.
Most definitely too many clothes. Short of breath now.
I’m standing to attention, I had been almost from the moment he kissed me with that intent look on his face.
Again our lips part and come together. We take the opportunity to draw in a quick breath so we can continue the slide against and around and in each others mouth.
I am pushing him back down towards the desktop. I want him naked and wanton. I have him wanton.
“Stay?” I ask him. My voice quiet in the room, deep.
Before he can answer I kiss him again. I don’t want to let go. It was an effort just to break away to speak that. I feel the air rushing in and out of his body, over my cheek from his nose, into my mouth from his.
I feel his hands slide down my neck and under my braces. Yes, naked soon.
He grips and pulls them down my arms.
I am surprised as he pushes up at the same time. He slides off the desk, flush against me. I am driven backwards. My arms are around his waist, where he has trapped them with my braces. I stumble as he directs me.
I feel my chair spinning gently as we knock it in our haste. I will have a bruise there tomorrow, but not as good as the one across my arse as he pushes me forcefully up against the window.
Yes.
Some frantic movements from both of us and my arms are free. Now it is my turn.
The jacket has to go. Still we kiss and nip and lick. Lips swollen and sore. I work the jacket off his shoulders as he continues to attack the buttons on my shirt.
He will get me naked quicker than I will get him. Can’t have that.
Jacket gone. Tie is next.
I want to taste him more. I break away.
“Ahhh,” he moans as I lick the underside of his jaw. I taste the sweat of the day, his hairs tickle across my tongue, rough and oh so masculine.
Tie is gone now and I need to open his shirt. I want to press my face into the base of his throat. I want...
He beats me to it again. It is he that sucks in my skin, that delightful pressure. My shirt is gone, when did that happen? His hands, those hot hands, those long fingers are snaking up my belly. I press into him. He groans again. I love those sounds he makes as his body loses control.
He is going to expose my skin and I want to feel him. I pull at his shirt, undoing and ripping buttons. I will be in trouble later but now, don’t care. Must feel him.
Don’t think, do.
I get his shirt open and my hands on those shoulders of his, ready to push down when he reaches my chest and pinches my nipples.
The pain. The pleasure.
I stop breathing for a moment and then it is all frantic movement as I want my arms down to remove his shirt and he wants my arms up to remove my t-shirt.
He wins. I lift my arms. He pulls and it flicks under my chin, over my nose. It is not a removal of clothes like in the movies. Not sweet seduction. This is raw, this is sex, this is now.
His arms in the air along side mine. He throws my shirt away and I take the opportunity to open my eyes. His face is flushed. A strain of red along those cheekbones, both breathing strongly through our noses. We pause. I with my arms still in the air, he with his arms down at this side.
That chest. Broad, masculine, the fine tufts of hair across his pectorals. I remember my anatomy lessons, I know all the names of the muscles and the bones. I don’t care, I don’t need that knowledge now. I have all the knowledge I need. He drives me mad.
I quickly lower my arms to grab at his shirt and pull it off. He needs to be as naked as I. His cuffs are a problem.
My fingers slip and slide and miss. I get frustrated and then he makes it worse.
He drops his head and sucks at my chest.
I grab tight to his wrists as his tongue swipes across and then is followed by air blown over where he has just licked.
I know I am marking him for tomorrow, but he is marking me too. He bites and then sucks. I will bruise but in the best possible way.
My head thrown back, I don’t care about the window behind and if it wasn’t for the ledge I would have likely cracked my head open.
He pushes his groin into mine, I feel the heat on my cock and on my arse I feel the square edge and coolness of the ledge.
I finally get the buttons open on his cuffs and his shirt is off.
I grab his arse, my hands were made for that arse. Pert, round and fits perfectly into my palms.
We are back kissing. His hands are gripping my hips and then he drives me insane. He removes his cock from where it was pressed into mine.
I whimper at the loss of the pressure and then his hands replace it.
Yes!
Fingers on my belt, brushing against my mini captain who leaps to parade attention each time he touches me. Then those fingers are sliding in the gap. When did he undo my fly? I am leaking and his clever fingers spread the moisture over my briefs.
I try to pull him closer but he is having none of it.
He gets his hands under my briefs and he is pulling them down, my cock catches and pulls as he is none too gentle.
He starts to drop down and I get my hands under his arse and keep him upright. Now he is pressed up against me again. Before it was my hands that felt his rough wool, now it is my sensitive cock.
I rut against him, there is no other way to describe it. He joins in the motion back. Animalistic, raw and delicious.
Each motion brings me closer to the edge. I know what will send me over.
I push him away. He stumbles back to the desk.
He looks at me again, with that intense stare. I try to step forward but am restricted by the pants around my ankles and for once I curse my boots.
“Off! Now!” I point at his pants as I bend down to scramble at my laces.
Heaven knows what we would look like to anyone walking in at that moment. Me with my bare arse in the air as I struggle with simple knots. I get them off as I see his shoes hit the floor with a thump. Socks are next and then the pants are off. I stand and smile at him, completely naked.
Now I am completely undone as he leans back against the desk, naked. His pale skin glowing from the lamp behind him. His eyes dark and I marvel again at how such clear eyes can darken so easily. I do that to him.
I want to take him over that desk. I want him to take me.
I leap forward and grab his hand. I push the chair out of the way as I pull him towards the manhole on the floor of my office. He knows I love to say manhole and I can hear him swearing under his breath about me being a child every time I do.
I let go of his hand as I jump straight down onto the bed. I quickly get off it and bend over to pull open the drawer on my bedside table. I know exactly what I want and as soon as it is in my hand, I am turning to smile at him, waving the tube of lube in the air.
“Have me,” I tell him.
He pauses, and then speaks. “Oh yes.”
I am pounced upon. I am twisted and thoroughly kissed again.
I end up on the bed. I can’t remember how he did it, but he did it without either of us getting more bruises.
Legs tangled and more rubbing ensues. I grab for that arse again. It is just too pert and tempting.
His chest hair brushes against my smooth skin. Sweat making his hairs stick together. His course pubic hair rubs against my groin and I love the feel of it. The contrast.
I drop my head back, offering my throat again from his ministrations.
He takes my offering and I know I will probably need to do up my shirt tomorrow.
He moves my legs apart by using his. I angle up, bucking against him.
Then he is pressing into me and I hiss at the delicious burn.
This is what his early kisses promised. The burn, the pain, the pleasure and the completion. I want everything from him.
I drop my legs wider as he rests his forehead on my chest. Sweat dripping off him in concentration.
“Now!” I tell him impatiently, thrusting upwards again.
He raises his head to smile at me. “Greedy,” he accuses me.
He is right and he knows it. But he raises up and positions himself. I drop one leg and use the other to raise myself up. I am cool and hot down there all at once. I want to feel the burn.
He gives it to me. Slow and annoying and I want all of him. He ignores my hissed instruction and continues at his pace.
We stare and then he is there. All the way in, every thick hard inch of him. My hands twist in the sheets, the thin blanket rough against my back, but all I want to concentrate on is the feel of him in my arse.
Then he starts to move and I am lost. In and out. Slow at first and then his breathing becomes ragged to match mine and I am pushing against him.
We don’t get the rhythm right to start off with but then a slide and a push at the right time and now it is fast. It is short, sharp movements, just a small thrust of his hips.
Then they become long, agonising, maddening thrusts. Back to sharp and fast just when I am at the point of grabbing him and rolling him over, if we weren’t in danger of ending up on the floor or into the wall.
I open as wide as I can, he hits my prostrate and the bunch of nerves shoot their pleasure. He thrusts again, missing. Not every thrust connects, some come close and then the angle changes and he’s got it.
My hands are in the sheets, in his hair, roaming over his body and then
on my own cock.
“Yes,” he hisses as he watches me rub and stroke myself in time with him. I am wet and leaking, but it isn’t enough. I raise my hand and he leans to lick my palm. Then I am back to stroking myself with his spit, my precum and I am losing it.
The feeling of his cock is unbearable in my arse and I am as wide as I can be in that bed. His balls slapping against me. The sounds in the room unmistakably of sex.
God how I love sex. No hiding, just pleasure and seeking and fulfilling.
And I lose it finally. I shout I don’t know what. I squeeze hard as I spurt over myself, drawing out the orgasm. I plant my feet, push up and squeeze him. Letting the thrusts and pulses of my body draw him in deeper.
He speeds up to milk the orgasm for himself. Then he stops, one final thrust and as I am coming down, the room returning to it’s natural colours, I feel him. Coming. Releasing into me.
A bead of sweat drips down his face. His head is lowered from his exertions. I watch the bead. As it nears his chin I reach a hand up to wipe it off and I bring it to my mouth to taste. The smell of his sweat and my come, one of the best things ever.
I open my eyes to see him staring at me. We both move at the same time. Another devouring kiss. How we have the breath to do this for as long as we do I don’t know.
I have raised up to meet him and I feel my seed blending with the sweat on his chest. I can imagine the white liquid mixing into the hairs on his body and the sweat. Combining still.
I feel him start to soften and leaking out of me. It runs down my arse cheeks onto the blanket below.
He sighs and withdraws.
On all fours he takes a deep breath, looks at me and then gets up and leaves the room.
As he goes to get a cloth from my bathroom to clean us both up I watch the space for him to return.
Did he understand? Did he get the message?
I love him.
His youth, his anger, his sarcasm, his resourcefulness, his suits, his calm, his strength, his tongue, his arse, his hands, his gentleness, his stopwatch, (well it was mine, but possession is nine tenths of the law apparently), his loyalty and the honour and old worldliness he carries about him.
He is broken.
I am broken.
Together we might be fixed.
We might be whole.