The following content is a complete work of fiction and rated NC-17. Sorry for the delay.
[ p r e l u d e ]
We’re dripping saltwater onto the hotel room carpet and you’re shivering as I shut the door behind us, trapping you up against it. There’s a struggle; me trying to pin your hands to the door and you trying to get your hands on my shorts. No time for words, no pleasantries. Nothing. Stripped back. Raw. Just your body against mine, your wrists pinned above your head, my mouth on yours before you can get a word in otherwise. You don’t fight, just relinquish yourself to me, and moan through our kiss and the desperation of it all is delicious.
You slip your leg up over my hip and move against me, seeking friction and feeling me hard through my board shorts. I let go of your hands, trusting you know by now to keep them above your head, and move my hands to your waist and pull you closer by your hips. You moan, and drop your hands slightly, the backs resting against the crown of your head as I kiss you again. Your body rolls against mine, eager like me, but you smirk when I catch your eye, like you’re the one with the upper hand. But you’re not.
I move one hand down between us, slowly tracing your hip, the crease of your thigh, and you inhale shakily against my mouth when I press my fingers to you through the fabric of those little blue shorts. My name leaves your mouth in some twisted, deviant version those four letters as the back of your head hits the door. I slip my hand into the waistband, move down, just fitting the concave of my palm to the convex of your sex.
Your back curves as you push forward into me, your mouth slightly open and lips wet. I slip a finger past your folds, feeling your breath stutter as your head falls into the apex of my shoulder and neck, and then stop altogether as I slide it inside you. It’s like I can’t keep my hands off of you, or from inside you.
Your teeth nip at my neck and my moan is muffled as I turn my face into your hair. My other hand cradles the back of your head as you rock against my hand. You’re still so wound up and I wonder if I could make you come again just like this. Or if it would take more. If you would need more. Need me.
Your hands curl into fists against the door as my arm works to pump my fingers in and out of you quickly, kissing you breathlessly as you whisper my name until you can’t anymore.
I carefully remove my hand and you watch me as I immediately suck those fingers into my mouth to taste you, bitter and sweet and sharp and something distinctly you and entirelyalwaysdefinitely intoxicating. You drop your hands to my shoulders, even though you’re not allowed use them just yet.
I tell you, spread your legs, and you do as I ask, whimpering as you watch me get to my knees. I curl my fingers around the back of your thighs and encourage you forward, pressing my face against you and inhaling. There’s nothing like the scent of arousal. Your hands shake, still on my shoulders, now for support more than anything.
I slip the place blue material aside, nuzzling my nose into you, relishing the way your entire body reacts to this one simple motion. I hear you whispering, something like my name and something else, as I part you with my fingers, and softly kiss you. You cry out, as I deliver a long, slow, sweep of my tongue, and pull your clit into my mouth. God, you’re so wet, and I’m so fucking hard.
I move your leg up over my shoulder to get better access, and your hips jerk forward.
“Oh fuck, Josh,” you breathe, and I support your hips, tilting them forth and further into my face. You put your hands in my hair, pulling and pushing like you don’t know what you want, and then shoving me away with a groan.
We stumble down onto the couch, and you move your hands to my shoulders to hold me down and straddle my lap. My gaze flits briefly to the door behind us where we both know the others are sleeping, but the thrill of being caught is just fuel to the fire.
I lift my hips and you tug my shorts down as I too rid you of the damp little garments still covering your skin. You reach down and grasp my cock between us, an unconscious noise leaving my mouth, my eyes falling closed at your touch. Prickles of pleasure spread out along my skin, your mouth descending on mine as you rock against me and rub me against you.
Your fist runs slickly back and forth, over and over my shaft and your free hand grasps my jaw when you push just the head of my cock inside you and still your hips. The noise that leaves my chest is almost inhuman, and you slowly lift your hips back up and off me as I dig my fingers into your thighs.
I lick the pad of my thumb, four fingers pressed to the skin below your navel as my thumb passes between your folds and looks for that soft knot of flesh and nerves and fucking magic. You sink down again, further this time, wetting my dick a little more as you touch my stomach and chest and shoulders and anything you can reach.
Suddenly you grab my hands and pin them down by my head, our hips swiftly flush, and you’re unexpectedly frantic as you grind against me.
“Fuck you feel good,” you murmur, pushing your mouth against mine, and I thrust up against you, groaning in response as you whisper to me again and again. This is so different from our wordless exchange on the beach, and you almost can’t stop what spills from your mouth and pools with the heat in my groin.
Your back arches, and I flex my fingers in your grasp, getting desperate to touch you as I watch myself dipping in and out of your heat, following the line of your body until I see the way your head has fallen back, peak of pleasure almost reached.
You’re so tight, so wet, and almost but not quite mine. That’s how it will always be, and I’m getting better at saying goodbye each time. Better but not yet good.
“Fuck, let me touch you,” I breath out, and your grip on my wrists loosens, following my forearms, biceps, shoulders and bracing palms against my chest as I lean up further on my newly freed elbow, curling one arm around your waist and pulling you close to me.
Your breasts are full and round under my fingertips, rosebud tips, soft and pink and I can’t resist pulling one into my mouth and then the other. Your cries are barely muffled into the top of my head and I hope to fuck no one hears us because I need you, and I need this so badly.
I find the perfect angle for you, friction inside and out, and you kiss me again, licking into my mouth and then pulling back with a shuddering gasp as I feel you come. Your nails rake down my chest as I lift and sink you down repeatedly, your pussy tightening around me through each wave, a string of sighs and moans and unintelligible words in my ear. I can feel you all over.
“Oh god,” I try keeping my voice low, my mouth against yours, “You’re going to make me come.”
You curse and murmur my name again, still caught up in your own throes, allowing me to pull our bodies flush and fucking pound into you, three-four-five short, hard thrusts and I’m unraveling too, your mouth rough on mine as static bursts behind my eyelids and you won’t wear that bikini again for a while now I’ve bruised your hips like that. I cling to you until the stars recede and I can see your face again, shining in the dark.
You lay back against the other end of the sofa, our legs tangled between us as we catch our breath, and you let out a soft laugh under your breath. I brush my fingers over the inside of your knee and you twitch away, tickling, drawing a grin from my mouth.
Eventually we make it back to my room and I wrap myself in the covers, and you wrap yourself in me. We’re back to where we started barely an hour ago. I fall asleep the same way I woke, with your fingers tracing the line of my shoulders, but with your body underneath mine and your lips next to my ear.
I shouldn’t get used to it. But I could.