/3/

There was someting about the darkest time of midnight; the stare of an infinite abyss that was void of anything yet contained everything; vast and unending. His eyes burned like that night sky, like burning coal ensconced in full darkness. It was the abyss of mystery and danger; of desire at its deepest and rawest fragment. With his distinct, secretive look exclusively bestowed on her, she felt her senses split into atoms and every atom spun with its own frequency of desire.

He practically pushed her into the small restroom; the sign out on front did not specify any gender. The hallway was darkly lit and well below the third floor of the Gallery. The restroom's artificial light cast a ghastly yellow light distorting the color of skin. The walls were white with no artful patterns or colors. The mirrors were bland and had a couple of smudges above the sink. It felt like a low-grade restroom.

She did not remember ever being this bold. She was not usually a risk taker sexually, and yet here she was, half-pushing, half-dragging him with only one goal in mind. It was set in motion an hour beforehand when she had leaned in and, in a whisper, told him she was not wearing any underwear. The surprise and speechlessness that had graced his features had been so delectable. She grinned at how he had gone from a surprised lack of understanding to outright desirous in well under a second, his eyes had darkened considerably as they roamed down her body and landed on her hips, his mouth pursed in pondering. The look in his eyes was not to mistake. Raw. Hungry. It blew through her and made her desires start to spin out of control.

She had left him with a coy look over her shoulder and hurried over to join the crowd at one of the more popular pieces of art installations. She knew the effect she had on him, and it excited her to no ends knowing that with but a few words she could throw him into a raging inferno. His eyes stayed on her during the next hour, and their color left her mouth dry and insides smoldering. No, she corrected herself, his stare set her ablaze. She was spiraling further and further into the feeling, her desires a bonfire. Excitement roared its head every time he stood a little closer, his breath hot on her neck when he spoke casually about a painting, about how he liked the light and the colors, about how when he changed angle then new features showed. He rambled about perspective and the color palette, but all she did was picturing him between her legs. His voice vibrated through her and shook loose a rush of desire that consolidated in the pit of her stomach and between her thighs.

So when he guided her towards the back, she let herself be guided. The moment the doors leading to the main room closed, his hands went from her shoulder to the small of her spine and she could feel the thrill of it through the cloth; a tingling that intensified when they spotted a far-removed rest room on a different floor.

She was so lost in the abyss of desire and the absolute knowledge that he was most certainly going to fuck her, that she barely gave notice to the state of the toilet. The above restrooms were scented and better lighted, but they were also more frequented and the queue had been long as they had passed by. Neither of which served their purpose.

The rest room door closed behind them, and she watched him lock it in the mirror, feeling excitement grow in wonder of what he planned to do now. He leveled his eyes to hers, their gaze locked in the mirror and he held her captivated as he advanced on her. He planted his hands on her hips and then pushed her into the sink none too gently, she gasped.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice low and his eyes darker than she remembered.

She nodded, her lips parting but instead of words coming out, she drew in a quick breath when his hands glided down the length of her legs and unceremoniously pulled her skirt up and bunched it over her buttocks.

She watched his eyes in the mirror, fascinated by the deep raw emotion in them and how it made her stomach flutter.

He backed her fully up and she had to brace her hands on the edges of the sink. His body was right behind her, solid and firm, leaving nothing between them but the clothes of his pants.

"So, you were telling the truth," he growled, his voice low and like gravel, the breath of his voice humid behind her ear. He was sliding her skirt higher up and had his hands cupping her bare buttocks.

"Of course," she let out, her voice hitched, "I am not prone to lying."

"You got me rock hard," he growled again, not really seeming to register her reply. This time he pushed into her with his hips and she could easily assert the truth of his statement by the feel of the bulge in his pants. The sink dug into her lower stomach, but she did not mind the uncomfortableness; it only highlighted every spike of desire in her body.

She smiled wider.

Through an endless hour of mingling in the crowd, his eyes had been on her solely. More precisely; they had been focused on her behind, dark and raw in their stare, as he had tried to decide if she was telling the truth or just teasing him.

She briefly closed her eyes when he kissed the side of her cheek, the gesture surprisingly gentle.

She heard and felt him unbuckle his belt and soon after the rustle of his pants being pushed down followed. She pushed her lower body backwards and spread her legs while wobbling slightly on her high heels. She ached for him - wanted him desperately - the sooner the better. She braced her hands more firmly around the sink and bit her lower lip, just wanting him to fuck her. Now.

He might have spent the last hour looking at her behind, but she had spent the hour imagining this very scenario. She had felt it as she walked around the gallery, her inner thighs warm and her center hot. So when he held her hips and eased into her with a slow glide, there was no resistance. He pushed in deep and she held her breath; he was bigger than she remembered, or maybe he was more excited than usual.

She smiled to herself and looked up again, briefly catching his eyes in the mirror before he began a fast rhythm. She gasped loudly in pleasure; it was just what she wanted; fast and hard, and all-consuming. Every thought and every feeling concentrated on only one thing; his cock sliding in and out. The friction was almost unbearably pleasurable. All she could do was hold on to the sink and push her ass back.

It was a hot, slick rush that swept through her with every thrust. With every tug on her hip, his fingers dug more painfully into her skin while his lips trailed hot kisses on the side of her neck only to climax them with a playful bite that emphasized her arousal.

They ought to fuck more, she thought, as her body spun out of control.

Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he slowed, leaned in and then commanded; "touch yourself." His tone was low and hot on her ear, and allowed for no objections.

She obliged and stretched her legs as far as she could while still keeping the angle and balance. She came quickly with a few well-placed touches of her own fingers between her thighs; the rush of it raging through her with increased velocity while he kept slowly fucking her. His lips parted into a devilish smile when she looked up into the mirror.

She started to smile back, but lost all bearings when he started up a quick rhythm again. It was pure liquefied desire on the brink of pain, and it shot though her with every thrust. She tried to force her breaths out in a slow, steady rhythm, but it was too much. Instead they became more hurried and heavy. Between her own indrawn breaths, she could hear his pants and grunts.

He came shortly after her; the last few thrusts uneven and hard. She bit her lip and closed her eyes; almost afraid she would come a second time and get swept away by the almost violent whirl of sensations.

They stayed in the position for a few moments, catching their bearings. They eased up when he took one step backwards and brought her with him; his hands soothing tenderly over her stomach where the sink had dug in. His mouth now sweetly deposited one sweet kiss after another on her neck and on top of her shoulder. The caress on her stomach smoothed down her skirt again.

She closed her eyes once more and let her lips draw into a happy, satisfied smile.

"You're a tease, you know that, right?" Andy chuckled into the nape of her neck, the friction of his slight stubble tingling.

She hummed, "Are you complaining?"

"Nah, I love it," he replied.

She nodded and then opened her eyes, finding his in the mirror again. This time they held her in a warm embrace, and the happy smile to his lips made her smile back in the same fashion.

…