A Joint in Her Studio Apartment

*The characters written are over 18. Story features light BDSM.*

She realized now, now that their bodies were mere inches from each other, that he already knew all her kinks. That, under the guise of friendly banter, she had spilled each and every one of them in a series of coffee shop meet-ups meant for catching up since the distance-induced hiatus of their friendship. And somewhere within those long talks she had offered to give him a place to stay if he ever visited her city. And sometime recently, he had called to take her up on her offer and brought a ziploc bag of pre-rolled joints to thank her for it.

Now, in her small studio apartment, they were laying on her bed with red eyes and only the light of a lamp to illuminate them. She had smoked the joint, inhaling deep into her lungs, with the knowledge that, at some point in the high, she would be unbearably horny. She knew that weed had the same effect on him. He was saying something but her memory was becoming foggy. She focused on his moving lips, trying to keep the words in her mind for long enough to derive some meaning. He had stopped moving them and, by the time she realized, she had been staring at his lips for a moment too long. Enough to notice their soft ridges and inviting curves. She looked up at his eyes and found them focused on hers, deep and searching. He said her name like it was a question.

"What?" she said in a whispered response, her voice giggling a little. It seemed so silly, the way he said her name like it was important.

She felt his fingers on her arm, tracing the length of it. She fought to keep her breath still as she stared into his eyes which shifted their gaze to her hand. He said her name again, this time like a statement.

"I have a confession," he said slowly, fingertips reaching her elbow and turning back around to her wrist, "I've liked you ever since we met up this summer. I liked you before that too, but you were moving on to new things and I didn't want to hold you back."

His fingers curled in a little, brushing against her arm more lightly, as if they realized what they were doing and weren't sure whether to continue.

"But I had to say something now. If you don't feel the same way, I'll go sleep on the couch and never bring it up again. But I desperately want you to feel the same way."

His hand paused at her collarbone, somehow it had made its way up to it, and his gaze finally moved back to hers. His forehead crinkled just barely, but that small change was all it took to make him look like the world was ending and she was at the center of it. And that was all it took to make butterflies flit up her thighs and through her stomach. It was all it took for her to bring her lips to his in a slow sensual kiss, the way she had practiced in her imagination on lonely nights.

"Of course I feel the same way," she whispered in the pause between one kiss ending and the other beginning.

"Thank fucking god," he said, closing his hand around her neck and pulling her towards him again. This time, they kissed with the passionate, aggression-filled relief at having someone after balancing on the brink of losing them. With the high, each kiss felt eternal. She lost herself in sensations: his lips on hers, his hand on her neck, the soft sheets brushing against her arms, and the feeling of a warm glow up her thighs, in her stomach, and between her legs. Her hands found their way down his arms to the edge of his hoodie. Under it, she found the warm skin of his back.

The kisses stopped coming. She only realized why when she opened her eyes to see him pull the hoodie off and then lean down to do the same with her shirt. She was so glad the sober version of her had chosen to skip on the bra. She wanted to pull off her pants too but he was straddling her hips now, pinning her in place. She pulled on the waist of his pants instead, trying to convey what she was finding hard to do in words.

"Patience," he said with a smirk, staring at her naked torso as if imagining all the things he could do to it. She found herself smiling too. He looked so beautiful, sitting on top of her in the low light with that mischievous look on his face. His hands started underneath her belly button, and grazed upwards until they cupped around her breasts.

"You have beautiful tits," he said before pinching each nipple, sending a wave of pleasure down to her clit. She gasped, arching her spine upward. He kept his grip firm for a few seconds more before releasing them.

"Oh my god," she managed to whisper.

He leaned down to her neck and kissed it, slowly. He continued, kissing from her collarbone to her jawline in slow, wet kisses as his hand cycled from nipple to nipple, pinching and pulling and releasing. She heard her voice quietly moaning as if from eons away.

"You like that?" he said, his voice raspy.

"You fucking tease,"

"I'm doing it just the way you like it," he said, his lips near to her ear, leaving her neck cold with their absence, "and you love to be teased, my little brat."

"I'd love to be fucked even more," she said, her hands sliding desperately against the fabric covering his thighs. He laughed in the quiet, mysterious way that made her heart flutter.

"And yet it's so fun to watch you be the desperate one for a change," he said. Suddenly, he pinched her nipples... hard.

"Ask politely," he said.

She hesitated, wanting to follow instructions and yet feeling humiliated to do so. She was finding it hard to concentrate on her words but his grip on her nipples stayed firm and they were starting to ache.

"Please... fuck me." she said.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that."

She collected every literary tactic she had learned in her years and years of schooling and put them to the task at hand. She started with his name, low and sensual.

"I want you so badly. I've wanted you for months."

She paused, before continuing,

"And now that you have me, all I want is for you to take what you've been wanting to take. I need you to fuck me."

He moaned, just loudly enough to be audible, before pulling her sweatpants down to her ankles and throwing his on the floor.

"Mmm, nice thong," he groaned, before pulling it down too.

She had just enough time to take a deep breath before his hand was on her throat and his dick pressed into her.

Wow.

Maybe it was the high, maybe it was him. Either way, she had never had sex this good before. It was fast and rough and it hit her g-spot in just the way that made her eyes roll into her skull and her spine arch. Her mouth was open and moaning, or gasping, or both and she closed her eyes to focus on the feeling.

"God, you're so beautiful," he said, leaning down to kiss her and slowing his strokes.

She settled her left hand on the back of his head and moved her right to her clit. Whoever said "moderation is key" is a fucking liar when it comes to pleasure.

He didn't stop kissing as he grabbed her wrist from her pelvis and pinned it against the bed.

"You let me take care of that," he said, moving his free hand to rest against the circle she had been prevented from accessing. He moved his thumb in small circles against it in time with his strokes and she moaned small, quiet moans with each geometric figure.

"Tell me when you're close," he whispered, gasping now too. And she was. She had never been this fast before but, somehow, she was. She searched for his eyes, found them, and nodded her head in the only way she could express, in this moment, the orgasm building within her. His hand tightened on her throat and hers tightened in his hair.

"Don't stop looking at me. I want you to look at me when you cum."

His strokes came quicker, his thumb pressing harder into her clit.

"Nod if you understand," he said, moaning between words.

She nodded, losing herself in his searching eyes and staying lost in them as she came, her head leaning forward until their foreheads touched. Just as she finished, he pulled out and came on her chest. He leaned forward on his arms, breathing heavily with his head bowed down. Slowly, he looked back up at her with a smile on his face.

"Where do you keep your towels?"

She grinned.

"Bedside drawer."

"It's almost like you had them ready for this," he teased, as he wiped the white liquid from her sore nipples.

"I've been preparing for this ever since you called."