A good day..

In addition to whatever writing tasks the Master assigns to me, I will also be using this space to archive my own forays into (primarily erotic) lit. The next several posts will be 'stories thus far..' and were written with someone quite specific in mind. Hopefully anyone stumbling across this little corner of the world will appreciate my efforts.

******

Leaning back in my chair, I glanced at the clock. As always, it told me that it was well past time for me to head home, and for once I agreed with it. The cursory knock on my office door came just as I was shutting down the computer; normally I would have been displeased to have a visitor so late in the day, but this one was more than welcome.



We'd started at the organization around the same time, but separate shifts had initially kept us from getting to know each other. Eventually our schedules gelled, and we formed a tentative, casual friendship. I had no problem admitting that my motives for the relationship were more murky at the start; sure, I thought you were smart, and funny, and charming. But you were also whipcord thin, all dark hair and eyes, with stereotypical guitarist hands and forearms that I could stare at all day. Luckily you were also too polite to notice, so I was able to enjoy the view while also enjoying the company.

A few months ago something had shifted; I don't recall exactly the moment, or why now instead of a year, two years ago, but the friendship took on a more flirtatious tone. We'd exchanged some texts, had a couple conversations, bound in the safety net that comes with the unspoken acknowledgment that anything beyond that wasn't going to happen (despite the sincerity in my offers). So I didn't have to bother hiding my appraisal as you dropped into the chair across from me. I despised the summertime, but had to admit it came with one significant benefit- seeing you in short-sleeved t-shirts Within a week or two it would be time for shorts, and I'd probably have to start avoiding you or risk doing something embarrassing.

I could tell you'd had a long, probably incredibly frustrating day, and once again wished that there was something I could do to make things better. I hated seeing the weariness that clouded your eyes- much nicer to see them flash with amusement, or mischief, or.. well, I'd never seen them darken with desire, but I had a good imagination.

As we made small talk, I had a feeling we were dancing around something. Curious, but knowing better than to push in one direction or another, I let the topics drift by until it seemed we'd reached an impasse. You paused, shifted a bit in the chair, and took the conversation someplace I hadn't envisioned.

"Today's a good day."

I snorted in reply. "Sure- I can tell by the look on your face it's been a bang-up one." And there was that feeling again- I'd missed something.

You sat forward a little in the chair, tilting your head slightly, putting more emphasis on the words as you repeated yourself, and suddenly those four simple words took on immense meaning.

I'd asked you for a favor one day, perhaps a month or two back, in an uncharacteristic moment of weakness that I still hadn't offered an explanation for. You had gently demurred, stating it hadn't been a good day; with all the subtlety of a bull elephant I'd shot back 'Would you tell me when it *is*?'

I never pretended to be socially adept, but I suppose I had my charms.

The request had been a small one, perhaps a bit strange, and honestly as time passed I hadn't expected a followup on it (expecting and wishing are, of course, two entirely different things- that favor had been the staging ground of a number of fantasies involving you, so naturally I harbored a tiny amount of hope that not only would it eventually be a good day, but that you'd actually let me know when it was).

My jaw tightened as realization dawned; you hadn't taken your eyes off my face, and there, underneath the fatigue, was what I'd never expected to see. Need. And perhaps some uncertainty, but now that my brain had actually engaged there was no way I'd give that emotion enough time to take hold.

I grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into the adjoining office, where the set of the windows made it more difficult for a passerby to glance into. Taking quick stock of the room, I nudged you gently to the best spot, took a deep breath, and put my hands on the wall to either side of your shoulders.

No touching.

That was the rule. And I truly had intentions of honoring it. When I'd proposed the favor I'd made that clear, the variety of other things I'd *like* to do to you notwithstanding. All I'd wanted in that moment, when I stepped well outside my own comfort zone and asked for this, was the chance to be close to you. To feel the heat of your body, your breath on my skin, your heartbeat near mine. To know that pleasure, and that peace. Because what we hadn't talked about, what you didn't know, was how comforting I found you. Yes, you're hot as hell and there are about a million ways I'd take advantage of you given the opportunity, but underneath that was the innate sense of calmness and security you radiated, something someone like me- always thinking, always evaluating, never really trusting- found irresistible.

So when I promised no touching, I meant it. After all, this was a game I knew well, had played with others long ago, and I had no reason to believe this time would be different. But here, in the reality of it, I knew that making that promise- indeed, asking for this in the first place- had been a very, very bad idea. As I closed my eyes, willed my heartbeat to slow, and leaned into you, I suddenly knew I didn't have the self-control needed to play this game with *you.*

I dipped my head toward the collar of your shirt so you wouldn't see- and misinterpret- the fear that crossed my face at this thought. Hyper aware of not making contact, I ghosted my lips over the the warm skin of your neck and realized I hadn't breathed since that first focusing inhalation. And that I was shaking uncontrollably. I let out a slow, careful breath, re-centered, and brushed the tip of my nose up the line of your jaw to your ear, where I- with significantly more calm than I felt- whispered 'thank you.'

You shifted slightly, turning your head toward me as if to respond, and I had a panicked moment of trying to adjust my own position before we could touch, which I knew would be my undoing, and the words came out before I could stop them.

"Gods, please.. don't. I can't.."

You moved quickly, faster than I could have anticipated; one hand tangling in my hair at the base of my neck, the other pressing on the small of my back, pulling me into you. I bit back a whimper as I found myself straddling your thigh, your mouth against my collarbone, my hands now balled into fists but still on that damned wall, and jesus *christ* I wanted to honor that stupid promise I'd made but there was no way I could overlook the fact that both your hands had landed on two of my most sensitive spots (may all the gods help me if you found the third one) and this was about to get really, really out of control. Your voice was muffled from your mouth.. doing things.. to my neck and the fact that my heartbeat was thudding in my ears, but I managed to interpret anyway.

"Tell me."

Your teeth and lips traced a path to just below my ear as your grip tightened and I struggled to form a coherent thought. Your leg moved between mine, a brief increase in contact that made me gasp. When you spoke again, the words were colored with a darkness I'd only dreamed of.

"You think I don't know what you need, that I haven't noticed? Don't be naive. But I'm going to have to hear you say it." Your lips dropped back to my neck, tongue running over the pulse point, and I was fairly certain I drew blood as my fingernails dug further into my palms.

"I know what your body is telling me right now- I can feel your heartbeat, feel how hot I make you." You brought your head back enough to look me in the eye, and I was lost. "I can smell how wet you are." Again your leg shifted, emphasizing your point, and you smiled as I involuntarily followed the movement, rubbing myself against you.

"Is this what you want from me? Say it. Do you imagine what it's like to have my hands on your body, how I'd feel on top of you? Do you finger-fuck yourself and pretend it's my cock inside you?"

It was enough. Because I had to admit it was true, all of it. That I'd imagined a thousand different encounters, pretending my hands were yours. That I'd wondered what you tasted like, what you enjoyed, whether you were vocal or not, how your body would feel against mine.

That in the darkness, it was your name on my lips as I came.

Your gaze hadn't wavered, and in its magnetic pull I found the answer to my most haunting question.. it would be okay. I could let go, tell you what I needed, take the pleasure and release you were offering me, and it would be okay.

Comfort. Security. Have I mentioned how they're irresistible?

I think you knew the moment I gave in, because in the second before I pressed myself more fully into your embrace I saw a playful smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

"I need a lot of things. But let's start with.. I need to lick and suck every inch of your cock. I need to be on my knees in front of you, I need you to fuck my mouth, and I need to taste every drop of your cum. We can figure out where to go from there later; I suppose it'll depend on your recovery time"

It was your turn to.. well, it wasn't a whimper, exactly, but there was a small, strangled noise just before you crushed your lips to mine, and the sound of it made me ache. As we explored each other's mouth, I yanked at the hem of your shirt, groaning as I finally pressed my hands against the bare skin over your ribs. Somehow I managed to drag my mouth from the heat of yours, panting, and shifted my weight away from you, trying to maintain just another moment of composure.

"This is not how I envisioned this happening." You started to chuckle in response, but my hands dropping to your waistband cut the sound short. "I'd wanted to take my time with you, draw this out as long as I could." Close enough now that I could feel the way your cock tented your pants, and the need was becoming overwhelming. "That- is not going to happen. Not this time."

You didn't pause; grabbing my hand and pressing it firmly against the bulge in your pants, you leaned back against the wall and half-closed your eyes in anticipation. "Don't care."

It was all the encouragement I needed; before the words had left your mouth I was on my knees, making short work of the button and zipper and pushing your pants open. The thin material of your boxers was wet where it stretched over the head of your cock, and my mouth watered in response. I took just a moment to savor the musky scent of you, rubbing my cheek against your shaft, feeling it twitch at my touch. I'd moved your pants aside enough that I could get to the legs of your boxers, and I slid my hands under the cloth, up your thighs to your hips, massaging and caressing your skin. I felt your hands gently pushing my hair back, fingertips sliding over my cheek, and I turned my head, placing a kiss on your palm before hooking the band of your underwear and pulling it out and down, exposing your cock.

Oh.

I'd heard long ago that guys don't like the term 'nice' thrown around in reference to their cocks. But there were some for which that term was not a placating descriptor; there were some that genuinely, truly were *nice*. That simply begged to be stroked, sucked, played with.

I should have known you'd be one of the latter.

I couldn't untangle myself from your clothing fast enough, couldn't take you into my hand fast enough, and could never, ever forgot the hiss of pleasure you made as I closed my lips over the hot, weeping tip of your cock. As I took more of the shaft into my mouth, I heard your head thud back against the wall; your hands fisted in my hair, holding me still as your hips set the pace you wanted.

I slipped my hand between your legs, stroking your balls and the sensitive spot just behind them. Your movements were getting erratic, and I could tell you were on the edge of release; I wrapped my tongue around you and sucked harder, eager to feel you come. Which is why I didn't hide my whimper of protest as you pulled me up off my knees and spun me so I was the one pressed up against the wall.

The shift had been quick enough that I was a little disoriented- not to mention highly annoyed at the sudden lack of your cock filling my mouth- and in that moment I was absolutely not above begging, if that's what you required for me to get back to what I was doing. I struggled against you, but as your shoulder pinned me in place and your hands frantically pulled at the fastenings of my jeans, I understood you weren't engaging in a horrible game of teasing. When you were able to get my jeans down just past my hips, you shifted one hand around my waist and, with a sigh, reached into the opening with the other.

Pushing the fabric of my underwear out of your way, your fingers slid easily through my folds, gathering the wetness that had soaked through to my jeans. For a moment one long, slender finger entered me, pumping in and out in a delicious promise of things to come; I dropped my head to your shoulder and struggled to stay upright. Your hand drew back slightly so you could take my clit between your thumb and fingers, coaxing more fluid- and increasingly loud cries- from me as you played with the small bud. Your cheek rubbed against the top of my head, oddly gentle when contrasted with your words- and the fact that your hand was buried between my legs.

"I could always tell when you were wet and ready to go, even when you tried to hide it. Your whole scent changes. I've wondered if you taste as good as you smell." You laughed as a particularly well-place pinch brought a yelp of pleasure. "And I always pegged you for a screamer. Good thing no one's around, but just in case..."

Your free hand came up long enough to nudge my face into the curve of your neck, muffling the sound a bit, and your efforts to push me closer to the edge increased. "Go ahead and scream; let go for me." You made sure that the next sentence was whispered directly into my ear, so there would be no question of what was said.

"Because once you've had your pleasure, I'm going to fuck the hell out of you."

I'm quite certain that I passed out for a minute as the waves of my orgasm hit me; bucking against your hand I snapped my head back and howled your name. Keeping me from sliding down the wall with your free arm, you followed me through the whole time, drawing more spasms as you drove one finger into me and pressed my clit with your thumb.

As I started to recover you drew your hand out of my pants and pressed your fingers against my lips; I immediately followed your unspoken command and licked them clean. When I'd removed the last of my juices, you bent your head to mine, running your tongue over my lips before chasing the lingering taste of my arousal in the warm recesses of my mouth.

Moving with only slightly less urgency than before, you pulled me away from the wall and bent me over the nearby table, pressing between my shoulder blades and simply murmuring 'Down.' Adjusting both our clothing just enough to achieve your goal, you rested one hand on my hip and used the other to rub the head of your cock against my pussy, coating yourself with my juices. With one quick thrust, you buried the full length of your cock inside me.

I immediately, involuntarily arched up off the table, only to have you shove me back into place with a growl. "I said, stay down." Although I could feel your cock twitch, the rest of your body was utterly still, your hands gripping my hips and your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Son of a bitch, you're tight."

I bit back a scathing response involving lack of use, instead focusing on relaxing the muscles surrounding your still spasming cock. Your breathing slowed; although you moaned as you gave an experimental thrust and your fingers still dug into my hips, it was clear you'd regained control. Enough control, anyway, to start a slow, steady rhythm, then to allow me to meet your thrusts with my own, and finally to drape your body over me, entwining your fingers through mine. I lost myself in the simple pleasure of being surrounded and filled by you, of your teeth nipping at the back of my neck, of the soft sounds you made each time you entered me fully.

This time, when your movements sped up and I felt your cock beginning to swell, I knew there wasn't going to be an interruption. Hedging my bets, however, I made sure to express my opinion clearly.

"Yes, please, gods- fuck me. Harder.. don't stop."

Your fingers tightened around mine, and droplets of sweat fell from your forehead onto my neck. I almost didn't hear you respond; in fact, I had to ask you to repeat it, and I could tell it was coming through tightly clenched teeth.

"Want to fill you with my cum. Is it safe?"

Thank the gods for not having to do math in my head at a time like this. I whimpered in the affirmative, and was rewarded with several quick thrusts and a cry of pleasure before you came, each spurt accompanied by a hard spasm of your cock that nearly had me following you over the edge.

Neither of us seemed particularly motivated to move afterwards; you checked to make sure your weight wasn't too much on me, then brushed a kiss over my temple before resting your head on my shoulder. Since I was sure I'd never have the opportunity to experience this again, I wasn't going to do anything to disturb you while I committed every sensation to memory.

After a time you shifted slightly; not enough to dislodge your softening cock from inside me, but enough to let me know you hadn't fallen asleep.

"We'll have to do this at least once more, you know."

I wasn't going to argue with you- internally I was doing handstands- but I was curious. "Really?"

Your reply took me by surprise, awoke feelings that I'd buried long ago, and nearly made me attempt another round right then.

"Mmm. There's one more spot I need to put my cock before I can say I've had you completely. Would hate to pass the opportunity up." There was an eternal pause, during which I became convinced that I'd misheard you, before you added "Besides. You've had your mouth on me; it's only fair that I eventually repay the favor."

I felt, rather than saw, the smile on your lips as you nipped one last time at my ear before tucking your head back on my shoulder and sighing contentedly, effectively ending the conversation.

And as I turned everything over in my head, I realized you'd been quite right about one thing; it *had* been a good day.