Misbehaving

I didn't want to make him feel bad. I really didn't. I wanted to make him feel good.

"Okay," I breathed, "okay, I'll stop. I'll stop. Promise." I stroked his chin, his lips, with my thumb. "Want me to kiss it better, mmh?"

I heard his breath hitch. "hh-yeah."

I just touched my lips to his, offering, not demanding, letting him take what he wanted, what he needed. This guy had years worth of kissing to work out of his system, and god, I was gonna be the lucky, lucky beneficiary...both of us were gonna have stubble rash tomorrow, I thought, as we melded still more, but I for sure didn't care. This was...crazy good, and it just kept on getting better, and it felt like there wouldn't be any end, it was fathomless...he was so hungry and demanding, and so fucking feisty, there was so much want in him, it fuelled it in me...

I let myself sink down right along him, holding just a little weight on my elbows, starting to feel drunk-stoned myself...so much contact, so much heat, so much skin...I don't know how he did it, but Zac managed to get first one leg then the other outside my own, then wrap them around me. He hooked his ankles together, squeezed with his thighs, and writhed, rutting up into me. He was so hard. So hard. It...god, it was insane. I pushed all the way up on my arms to take a look.

Zac looked down too, but he was staring at me. "Oh fuck, Michel, put it in, put it in..." he panted.

I knew that was the cock-drunkness talking. I wasn't really going to just put it in without some decent prep. But I pushed his knees up into his armpits and he hooked his elbows round them, still gently panting. When I pressed one lubed finger into him, he felt tight, as anybody who'd had a three-month long dry spell would, but I saw no sign of discomfort on his face, and he quickly started to relax around me as I nudged back and forth.

"C'mon!" he hissed, before I'd been in thirty seconds. "Another one!"

I ran the index finger of my free hand up the spongy tube of his cock. "Shh. Soon." I don't exactly have tiny hands either, and one to two fingers is a big jump.

"Aggh," he groaned. "Come on! Hurry up, man!"

"Nuh-uh," I told him, "nuh-uh-uh-uh-uh."

We're gonna go at my pace. We're gonna enjoy this. Because this chokepoint, I love everything about it. No matter how fast you got to here, no matter how hot and heavy things've been, this is the point where you have to slow down, which means you get to truly appreciate the magic, the mystery, and - I'm gonna say this - the majesty of a hole. Everything about them is glorious. The way they look, the way they resist, the way they yield...they're so shy, so unassuming at the beginning, but once you get them to bloom, they're capable of so, so much...

But did Zac care about any of that? No, he did not. He wanted another one. I relented after a couple of minutes and gave it to him, watched him breathe through the first few tough seconds, felt him sigh and relax amazingly rapidly. Oh god, this is gonna be good, I thought. I mean, I'd never doubted that for a moment, but suddenly I wondered if it might wind up being too good to handle. Zac brought me back to earth, loudly hounding me for another one, once again accepting it with surprising ease, and following up by insisting he was ready, trying to make me hurry...

If I'm honest, I have to admit I did, I did take things a little slower than truly necessary. Not just to spin out the moment for myself, but to get Zac going. He wanted my dick, yesterday or sooner, he was absolutely adamant about that - but despite all his yapping, he couldn't disguise the fact that he was enjoying my fingers. His dick was talking for him, gently leaching clear fluid onto his perfect fucking abdomen, and he knew I could see it. I kept purposefully looking at it, serenely smiling while he called me names, demanded that I stop being a such sadistic cunt, barked at me to get the hell on with it before he died of old age or boredom...

I laughed at that and withdrew from his ass, flicking at his rigid dick with my sticky middle finger. "Oh yeah, that'll be the problem. This thing is bored. Alright, do you think you can hang in there for ten seconds while I get a condom?"

It took a bit longer than ten seconds to locate one, unfortunately. Because I didn't own much furniture, my bedside drawer functioned not only as an underwear drawer, but as a sort of backwater for storing anything small, important, or unclassified.

"Fucking hell!" Zac spat after about thirty seconds, "What's the problem here?" He crawled over beside me, ripped the drawer completely free, and tipped it upside down, spilling socks, boxers, usb cables, loose change, eclipse mints, instruction manuals, and my tenancy agreement all over the floor. Leaning down, he grabbed a condom and waved it in front of my face. "There!"

"You're picking that up afterwards," I told him, nodding at the pile on the floor.

"Hah!" he huffed. "That's a nope."

I was a little disappointed he didn't say 'make me'. I thought I probably could make him, and I was also fairly sure he'd enjoy the whole process as much as me, even if he'd never admit to it. Another time. Hopefully.

I took the condom from him and brought my hand down hard on his nearest arse-cheek. "Lie down!"

He reared back, outraged. "What the fuck was that?"

"That was me slapping your arse," I said. "Which I wouldn't be able to do if it was over there on the mattress where it's supposed to be, would I? Lie down!"

He glared, chest heaving.

"I'll go get the bloody spatula if you're not quick about it," I threatened, rolling on the condom. I'm not sure if I would actually have followed through on that, but I didn't need to. Though he wanted to fight, he also wanted to fuck - his eyes were glued on the progress of the condom down my shaft.

He lay down. "Whatever. Less talk, more dick."

It was good. He was good. We were good. And good...not a good enough word. Intense. Insane. Indescribable. The preoccupied look on his face as I sank down, the way he clamped a corner of his lower lip between his teeth when I was almost there, the way he grabbed me by the ears and pulled me to his searching mouth, the way he wormed his hips side to side, embedding me deeper and even deeper - and the feel of him? Sure it was hot and tight and clinging velvet and all the other adjectives, but mostly it was Zac, Zac, Zac...

We didn't find a rhythm straight away, but when we did...yeah. Something else again. I knew when it was right, because I felt the change in Zac. It was like a rebirth, like...shedding a skin. All evening he'd been spiky and backchatty and giving as good or better than he got, which I totally liked, but when it was right, he let it go, let it all flow away, and that? - That I loved. He lay there looking up at me in a sort of bemused wonder, eyes fogged, almost glowing, existing for the fuck, wallowing in it...

Was it too good - too good to handle? It kinda was, after not very many minutes.

"I haven't - got - much more," I told him breathlessly, "time to wank yourself, baby..."

He kept his hands clamped on my arms and went to turn his head aside. "Doesn't...matter."

It definitely mattered. Unfortunately I was waaay too close for a patient philosophical discussion on the topic.

"Fucking do it!" I hissed. "Do it now!"

And for once in his damn life, he didn't argue. A warm liquid look formed in his eyes and his breath hitched a little as he reached down, and god I was almost over the edge already...He worked himself fast and hard, impatient as ever, his hand almost a blur, neck arched, tendons standing out each side, and then his eyes rolled back and he let out a sort of gurgling groan all the way down in his chest, and...I just utterly fucking lost it. I was caught by some gargantuan tidal wave, or maybe I was the wave. I was inside my body and outside it, I was everywhere and nowhere all at once, I thought I might possibly be yelling, but I couldn't be certain it wasn't Zac because I wasn't sure where the boundaries were, what was me and what was him, or if the distinction even made sense anymore. But there was us, making our own kind of sense, our own kind of...wow. Together.

Together. Yeah. As my heartbeat slowed and the world mostly stopped spinning, I became aware I'd fallen down on him. We were lying together in a sweaty, cummy sandwich and there wasn't anywhere else I wanted to be. I knew I was gonna have to pull out soon to be sure the condom stayed on, but I really didn't want to. Just a little longer, just a little longer...just...like...forever...

I gently kissed the side of his neck and pushed up on my arms to look at him.

"So, how about that? Did it feel like a first time?"

He rolled his eyes, but he was also kinda laughing."God, Michel, this again? It felt...it felt like a beginning, okay? Like a beginning."

Like a beginning. Okay.