My life was a strange, strange thing.
He rolled the condom on as I chanted, “Come on, come on, come on.”
He barely had spread lube over his sheathed dick before I reached back and grabbed it, positioning it so it nudged my asshole. As soon as I felt it in place, I let go and pushed back slowly. It hurt so good, and I didn’t want it to stop. One of his hands was on my back, the blouse I still wore pushed up so he could get at skin. His other hand was on my hip, holding tight, but not pushing or pulling. He was either letting me fuck myself on his dick or he was so shocked it was happening, he couldn’t move. Either way, it was fine with me. I panted as his hips pressed against my ass.
“So good,” I babbled at him. “God, you feel so fucking big in me. I need to move, oh fuck, I need to move—”
And I did, pulling away and then pushing back on him. He said something above me, something choked out, but I was too delirious with the drag of his dick in my ass, the counterpoint to where my own dick bumped uselessly against the vanity.
I watched him in the mirror, my head resting on my hands. His eyes were hooded, his face and throat red as his hips finally snapped forward when I pushed out. I cried out at that first hit, muffling it into my hands, well aware that people could hear us downstairs. His eyes shot up to mine in the mirror. He held my gaze as he did it again, working another cry out of me.
“Come on,” I said throatily. “Just do it already. Please. Just fucking give it—”
He bunched up my blouse in one hand, pulling it tight against my chest, using it to anchor himself. He started snapping his hips roughly, his balls smacking against my thighs as he thrust into me. I shouted into my hands as he fucked me, no longer sure (or caring) if people could hear us down below. Part of me wanted them to hear us, to let them know that he was mine now, that this was real, and it was good.
These perfect, sweet little noises came from him, high-pitched and almost like a whine. He pulled back on the blouse tightly. It
caught at my throat and clung there, digging into my skin. I watched as he reached up and tweaked his own nipple.
There was a pressure building, and even though this was probably as close to porn as I’d ever get in my life, I knew there was no fucking way I’d be able to come without touching my dick. I pushed back against him to give myself room between my dick and the vanity. I reached down to stroke myself off, but he let go of my blouse and batted my hand away.
Before I could tell him off for being such a bastard, he pulled on my shoulders, raising me up until my back was flush against his chest. His thrusts were uneven now, sporadic, the angle just slightly off, but it didn’t matter because one of those big hands came up the front of the skirt and grabbed my dick, jerking me off in time with every movement forward. His breath was hot on my neck as his tongue dragged along my ear.
“I want to watch you come,” he growled.
“And then you have to come on me,” I spat back. “You fucking do it on me, you understand?”
He jerked me off harder.
I didn’t last, after that. He kept nailing my prostate and it didn’t matter if I was Helena or Sandy; there was only so much I could do when being fucked like that. His free hand went over my mouth as I got closer and I screamed into it when I came. My come splattered onto the vanity, onto the mirror. Onto the floor. I gasped into his hand, my head falling back on his shoulder.
It didn’t take him much longer after that. One moment I was getting fucked, the next I was on my knees in front of him, the condom lying on the floor next to me. He jerked off above me, his face screwed up like he was in pain. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. The first splash landed on my neck. Then my chin. My cheeks. My hair. He made that little whining noise again and I fought against dashing my tongue out and chasing the taste of him. I’d already gone against my normal procedure and blown him without a condom. I knew he’d have told me if he was carrying anything, but I didn’t want to take the chance.
Besides, this was good enough.
Eventually, he dropped to his knees in front of me. I opened my eyes and grinned at the dazed look on his face, seeing me striped with his come. He moved with slow, jerky movements as he shrugged out of his shirt before bringing it up and wiping my face with it. It still felt tacky and warm by the time he was done, but I could worry about that later.
Because he leaned forward then, kissing me long and deep, and I didn’t think I wanted anything else right at that moment.
There was a sound below us as he leaned his forehead against mine. It took us a minute to understand it for what it was.
Applause.
“I’m questioning my sexuality after that!” Izaac shouted up as other people in the bar started laughing.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.
Darren just grinned.
Chapter 23: Freddie Prinze Juniored
LATER, HE lay on his back on an old blanket I’d found tucked away in one of the corners. I was at his side, my chin resting on his chest, staring up at him as I played with his chest hair. His head was pillowed on his arms, and the smug expression was back. I allowed him to have it because, after what we’d just done, he’d earned it.
Someone had put up Christmas lights in the Lair, probably Charlie. They twinkled above us, and it was almost enough to make up for the fact that we were lying on the floor at a gay bar. Almost, but not quite.
Funnily enough, I wasn’t in the mood to complain. A good dicking will do that for you.
His smirk grew wider as I sighed into his chest.