Leaving Zach to the rats and the shit-storm that is sure to follow, we stagger down the hallway, still breaking into gales of laughter every few seconds. A couple of lab technicians pass us by and give us strange looks. I try to compose myself, but every time I look at Hodgins I lose it. We're under a stairwell, away from prying eyes at the moment. Hodgins pulls me into an embrace right there beneath the stairs and proceeds to smother my giggles with insistent kisses.
"Don't tell me that the thought of Zach covered in rat poop is responsible for getting you all turned on…" I laugh as the hard evidence rubs up against my thigh.
"Please, I'm not that twisted," Hodgins pauses to give me a severe look. Within seconds, he's wearing his bedroom eyes again as he admits, "It's that sexy laugh of yours…"
"Oh, I see," I bat my eyelashes at him demurely, "And what are we going to do about it?"
Although it was meant as a rhetorical question, Hodgins has seriously considered the answer and is already one step ahead of me.
Next thing I know he's leaning me back against the wall, only it's not the wall, and it's giving way behind us. As I stumble with him backwards into the dark, I realize that Hodgins has maneuvered me into the storage locker under the stairwell. The door shuts behind us with a loud click. It's pitch black.
I come to an abrupt stop when the backs of my thighs make contact with the assorted bins and containers stacked against the far wall.
"Ow! Careful, Hodgie!" I complain as I lose my footing and am forced to sit down heavily on a row of flimsy cardboard boxes. They give under my weight, and I suspect they are full of latex gloves or clean-room smocks. I shift, crushing them as Hodgins tries to maneuver between my thighs. "Can't we turn on a light, or something?" I suggest.
"We don't need a light—this is way hotter…" Hodgins whispers a few inches from my face. I reach out to determine his exact whereabouts, but he's on the move again. Next thing I know, my tights are being yanked down around my ankles.
"These better not be ripped when we leave here," I warn him, thinking about the $15.95 this last pair cost me. A tingle of excitement runs up my thighs in their absence.
"Give me a little credit, will you? It's not like I've never done this before," Hodgins responds peevishly. His hands are working on my panties now, and I lift up to be helpful.
"So, who else have you screwed in the closet at work?" I tease, lifting my legs, bound at the ankles with hosiery, over Hodgins' head. He snuggles in between my thighs and begins kissing them.
"No one," he says between kisses. "I was referring to my expertise at removing your clothing." Hodgins continues to trail kisses up my inner thighs, and I begin to feel all warm and melty inside.
As Hodgins' tongue is about to do what it does best, a more practical consideration occurs to me that overrides my baser instincts.
"What do you think you're doing?" I whisper frantically, grabbing him by the curls and forcing his head up. "You want to walk out of here with your beard all covered with--"
"Ouch! Hey, watch it! I get the idea, okay? You don't have to be so rough on the scalp…" Hodgins yelps.
I release his head and begin pulling him up by the shoulders to lie on top of me. With Hodgins' added weight, something else gives way somewhere below us and I hear the sickening crack of breaking glass. Hodgins is unfazed.
He's immediately forgiven my rough treatment of his mop because his lips are now moving over my face with sensual abandon. My tongue enters his mouth and he sucks on it gently. One of his hands has worked its way up under my dress and is playing with my left breast. I wrap my arms around him tightly as the thrill of our closet tryst begins to heighten my arousal. I squirm beneath him until his pelvis settles into my crotch, and then I'm sliding my palms into the back pockets of his Levis, feeling the firm contours of his ass flex beneath my fingers. You can bounce a dime off an ass like that...
Between my legs, Hodgins' confined boner is radiating enough heat to melt rock. I work my hands between us to wrestle with the straining denim.
"Here, let me…" Hodgins grunts, lifting up just enough to deftly pop the buttons of his fly with one hand. I help tug his pants and boxers down far enough to free his erection. I take this moment to enjoy the feel of it in my hand; it's amazingly stiff and warm and throbbing to the touch. "Whew, careful there…" he warns as I caress his shaft, smoothing a pearl of precum over its satiny head. Another practical thought comes to mind.
"Do you have a condom?" I ask sweetly.
A moment of silence.
"A condom? Why would I have a condom? We haven't used a condom for over three months now…" Hodgins sounds incredulous, and I can't really blame him.
One of the highpoints of being in a long-term, monogamous relationship was the day, about two months into the relationship when we had sex au naturale for the first time—and when I say first time, I mean first time, ever, for either of us. Hodgins came in about sixty seconds flat, setting a new land speed record for sex. Since then, he's adjusted to the feeling of freedom, and never fails to go the extra mile for me.
So, when I bring up condoms now, Hodgins is confused.
"You know, we have to go back to work after this. I have to go back to work. A condom would mean… well… no fuss, no mess…" I try to explain delicately.
"Well, I-don't-have-a-condom," Hodgins spells it out for me, and he sounds more than a little ticked. His hard-on hovers between us, waiting for the verdict.
Right now, I'm as horny as hell, but cursed with a concern for practicalities.
Suddenly, I have a brainstorm. Reaching behind me I rummage around in the litter of mangled boxes. Forcing my hand into one, I bring out a fistful of latex gloves. I've hit the jackpot. I find Hodgins' hand in the dark and shove one into it.
"What's this?" he asks. He feels it up for a moment and then makes an odd noise in his throat. "Are you suggesting I wear this?" Hodgins asks incredulously.
I think it through for a moment. No, that wouldn't work… the fingers would be way too small. But maybe…
"Could you just use it at the end, as a… receptacle?" I suggest.
The closet goes ominously silent.
"You want me to ejaculate into a glove?" Hodgins finally blurts out.
"Yes…" I affirm, slowly, afraid that I've gone a little too far this time in the interest of hygiene.
"Okay… I can do that," Hodgins acquiesces suddenly. I suppose he thinks it's the difference between nookie or no-nookie at this point, and his libido wins out over his sense of dignity.
With that issue resolved, Hodgins stuffs the glove into the breast pocket of his shirt for later access, and immediately begins his attack.
I lay back—as best I can—and enjoy the sensation of Hodgins' mouth kissing and sucking on my neck. I breathe out in delicious anticipation. More crackling underneath us ensues as Hodgins shifts above me, apparently in order to engage in a little manual foreplay. God, I love this man's hands…
"Oooh, Baby… right there… oh yeah… mmmmm…" I hear myself moaning as Hodgins deftly fingers my trigger. I have a brief moment of panic as the thought occurs to me that I can get pretty noisy during sex.
I open my mouth to voice my concerns to Hodgins, when I suddenly decide against it. After asking him to use a latex glove in lieu of a condom, he might just stuff a handful in my mouth to smother my sex noises. So I decide to keep this concern to myself, and do my best to mute my vocalizations against his shoulder.
I don't know if it's the illicit excitement of doing it in the storage locker at work, or the fact that my ankles are trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and I'm getting a kind of bondage-like thrill out it, but I am hot-to-trot within minutes.
Hodgins confirms my condition by whispering low and sexy in my ear, "Baby, you are soooo wet…"
I'm figuring it's time to stop fooling around and get humpin' already, so I reach around and grab that bare ass of his and jockey him into position.
Hodgins, ever eager to please, cooperates fully and maneuvers for maximum access, reaching out to brace himself as best he can with arms on either side of me. This causes more small boxes to teeter from the stack above us, and a couple of them fall on our heads with a soft plop. I barely notice because I'm focused on getting Hodgins' dick inside of me without further delay.
"Fuck!" I hiss with pleasure at the sensation of his rigid thickness sliding into me a few inches, and then pulling back to push in again, deeper this time. Hodgins gyrates his hips against me, and then pushes firmly until he's buried up to the hilt. Staying deep, he begins thrusting slowly, rocking me back and forth with him and causing our makeshift bed to shake precariously beneath us. It feels so good that my pelvis begins to buck out of control against his, hurrying me towards the big "O."
"Hold on, Baby," Hodgins soothes in my ear, "Slow it down…"
That would be nice—if it were possible. Unfortunately, I'm a teapot that's reached its boiling point and I'm beginning to whistle—loudly. Hodgins has no choice but to participate as fully as he can and make me explode in orgasmic ecstasy. He shifts into overdrive, giving me what I need.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…" I keen my favorite profanity with my mouth pressed against his shoulder; only it sounds more like, "Awfa, awfa, awfa," as wave after wave of pure toe-curling bliss hits me.
"HOLY FUCK!" Hodgins hollers in my ear as he takes me completely over the edge into nirvana. I wonder if he's coming too, although I've never heard him express it this intensely before. I also wonder briefly if he's going to remember to use the glove.
Suddenly, he's jerking away from me. At the same time I realize that I have the taste of blood in my mouth, only I'm pretty sure that it's not my own. It dawns on me that I must have stifled my enthusiasm with a little too much rigor…
Hodgins sinks back down on me, laughing and cursing at the same time. "Damn it, Ange, you fucking bit me…"
"I'm sorry," I apologize, mortified. "It just… it just felt so good…"
"Biting me felt good? What are you, the Bride of Dracula?" I can imagine him wincing as I hear him inhale sharply somewhere in the dark above me, probably checking to see how deep my incisors cut into his flesh.
"No," I protest, even though I know he's teasing me. "You felt so good—inside of me."
"Well then I'll have to remember not to be so good next time…" Hodgins replies ruefully.
"Oh, Sweetie, I'm so sorry," I apologize even more profusely. Fearing he's lost some of his former enthusiasm for the task, I clamp my thighs around his waist, preventing his escape. "Here, let me make it all better," I coo, encouraging him to begin thrusting once more.
I tighten my vaginal muscles to further stimulate Hodgins' newly revived cock, all the while cheerleading his progress with some extremely filthy proclamations about his manhood, and what I want to do with it, that I won't repeat here. Works every time…
All is apparently forgiven and forgotten as Hodgins is now thrusting away with wild abandon and starting to gasp my name. The end is in sight for him, and I am grateful. I think I'm going to have Broner Glove & Safety Co. permanently embossed on my lower backside.
Suddenly, Hodgins stiffens in my arms, his hips twitching and quivering against my own. He then makes that adorable little sound that I love—a little wheezing groan that ends with a happy sigh.
I don't have the heart to remind him about the glove.