You Couldn't Be More Right
You're fucking him again for the first time in eight months, but it's not what you expect. You deluded yourself into thinking that it wouldn't be a big deal. It would just be another fuck, you thought. You'd been seeing him flit around the office and the diner everyday for a good week and he had you walking around with a perpetual hard on, thinking about what it'd feel like to ram your cock up his tight little ass. And, yeah, you do feel that. You really, really want to fuck him. Hard. But you feel something else, too. The moment that he took a leap and kissed you, you knew that this wasn't going to go the way you'd expected.
He kissed you,and it felt so fucking good to have his tongue in your mouth, eagerly rubbing against yours once, twice, and then it was gone. You knew then that the way you'd imagined it to be was going to completely inaccurate because that kiss made you feel more than you'd felt in months. He grabbed your neck and smashed his mouth against yours and just that caused a shock of the sexual charge that's always been there between the two of you to build like fire in the pit of your stomach and makes its way through your bones, igniting your body. All you'd wanted was to continue it, to kiss him more, deeper.
No, you thought. This won't be anything like all the other times.
You don't bother with foreplay. Neither of you need it, and, really, you're glad because you have this desperate need to feel him underneath you, around you, pressed flat against you, while you pound into him.
You push into him, his upper half pressed flat against the surface of your desk. You go slowly at first, letting him adjust to the intrusion, until he lifts up so that his back is pressed flat against your chest. He turns his head and says more into your shoulder than your ear, God, I missed you. It's full of want and sex and it goes straight to your dick and makes you want two things: to fuck him and to erase those godawful eight months that you spent apart. How you could have ever denied your desire for him is unfathomable to you. He takes your hand from his hip and grips it with his own as he leans back down against the table, letting you know that he's ready. As you slowly thrust in and out of him, he lifts up to rest his upper half on his forearms, and you lean down against him, skin to skin. Your chin is resting in the crook of his shoulder and your thrusts are getting faster, harder. He grips his hand tighter around yours when your cock hits his prostate and he turns his head to moan right into your mouth as you kiss him, full of lips and tongue and you never realized just how much you'd missed kissing him. You haven't kissed anyone else since he made that rule a year ago, and it's been too fucking long since you've kissed him.
This causes something inside of you to form, a feeling that feels old and new all at the same time. A feeling that you've only ever had with him. You think that you could do it; it would be so easy. Let your mouth hover over his ear and, as you thrust into him, whisper those words that he's always wanted to hear. Those words that, once uttered, can never be taken back and will certainly change things between you. You want to tell him because he deserves the words. Just once. He wouldn't expect you to say them again. This feeling, this desire to tell him the words you never dared say to anyone makes its way through you. Pushes past the lump in your throat and is resting on the tip of your tongue when he begins to make those hot little moans that he makes when he's close. You reach around with your free hand and grab his dick, start rubbing in the exact motion that he's always favored, that makes him come the quickest. You're about to come, too. You feel your balls tighten while your hand moves faster and then a warm splash against your hand and your ride his orgasm right into your own.
You slump lightly against him and your breath is coming out in hot little puffs against his neck. You just stay there, unmoving, your cock softening in his ass and his hand still clamped around yours. You move to pull out of him, your free hand grabbing the base of the condom. You don't exactly know what's going to happen after this. Once you both get dressed, you'd like for him to come home with you so that you can do that again, and again, but things are different between the two of you now. You don't know the protocol.
He decides for you. After you've pulled out, you find your hand combing through his hair. He turns in your arms to face you and the look there makes you want to kiss him again. He looks sated and pleased and even a little smug. It wasn't until he worked here that you realized exactly how much you missed him.
Seeing him everyday like that reminded you a little of how it used to be. You'd never realized how much you missed seeing him everyday until you did see him everyday. He leans forward and you think he's going to kiss you, but he doesn't. Instead, he puts his head right underneath your chin and wraps his arms around you. His embrace is so tight and you can sense that his emotions have changed.
You grant him this, now, because you never did in the past and you know know that he's sorry about what happened and he needs this – needs you – right now. So you stay wrapped around each other for a while. He stirs, moves his head from underneath yours and starts kissing your neck in that spot that goes straight to your dick. But, while fucking him against a desk is fun, you'd really rather see him spread out against your sheets, waiting for you to claim him.
You untangle yourself from him and just as he moans in protest, you kiss him. A gentle brushing of lips that's more comfort than sex, and he breaks away and smiles at you. "Okay," he says while looking around for his discarded clothing.
As you're dressing and doing your best to to clean up the mess you've made, you find yourself looking at him in a way that you hadn't allowed yourself since he left. He must see you staring because he stops fiddling with his shirt, one arm in its sleeve, and smiles at you. He says, "Brian, as much as I'd love for you to fuck me against your desk again, I'd rather us go home and fuck in bed."
He said home. That one word serves as a testament to the fact that things really are different this time. But they're the same, too. In all the ways that never needed changing, the dynamic between the two of you is the same. You're not going to fuck it up this time.
You walk to him and a smile comes to your lips as you say, "Sunshine, you couldn't be more right."
Feedback is nice.