Second Window

He starts in on my collarbone and stays there for a while, licking and nibbling along the bone, so I guess he likes that. The warmth and weight of his chest against me, his legs tangled with mine, it's nice. My nose is in his hair, and even though it smells like fries, I like it.

His hands are up my back and then he tugs on my hair again, and this time I don't swallow the noises coming out of me. I'm on my back and he's on top of me, our cocks sliding against each other as he moves.

"You like that?" he breathes, pulling on a lock near the front. "You like that a lot."

I nod furiously and part my legs and now our cocks are side-by-side. He takes hold of them both in one hand and squeezes and pumps and tugs, growling. He still has my hair in a death grip, and the weight of him along with his touch has me struggling to breathe in the best way possible.

He comes first and me not long after. It's slower for me than the first time, languid and sensuous and a whole-body kind of deal. I can feel my heartbeat in my legs and fingertips and my scalp, and I just lay there in his arms, praying it lasts.

I must fall asleep, because I wake up to his lips on my jaw, kissing sweetly. I try not to imagine sweet kisses when I go out to fuck, I just get off and get out because I know it'll be like this -- touching and gentle and soft. But it's so wonderful, to do this stuff again, after so long avoiding it. And even though it feels like a betrayal, like cheating, I don't stop him.

Not tonight.

"You have a scar," he says.

It takes me moment to come to, but when I do, I see him fingering the raised skin on my left shoulder. I wrench away from him, involuntarily.

"I'm getting it removed soon," I mumble. "So sorry my skin's not perfect, your highness."

I don't want to be mean, but I can't help it tonight. He pushes all of my buttons with his grins and his tugs and his sweet kisses.

He doesn't even acknowledge what I said, just kisses my shoulder and rests his head there, stroking my chest.

"So what is your name?"

I feel immediately defensive, but I just close my eyes and breathe, and it passes. "Charles."

I can feel his smile in the darkness. "Hi, Charles."

Hi, Charles.

I can barely breathe, my chest is so tight, and he must feel it because he pulls me into his arms and I let him. I'm too tired to fight anymore, so I just lay there, gasping and coughing. He doesn't ask me any questions, doesn't pester me, and I appreciate it more than I can say, because I wouldn't be able to give him an answer that made any sense.

He starts to talk after a while.

It's comforting, listening to his voice. He's talking about his job, about the cashier a cook and he mentions that he sometimes works the second window.

I'm drifting off, his voice muffled as if by a cloud, but it stays with me, second window.

I like it.

It sounds like another chance.