Sweet Nothing

Of course, you are worth it.

You are talking to me via speakerphone as I'm typing. Tales from the cooperate world. You are telling me about the way your new temp mixed up your files. He meant well of course. You are not upset, of course. Now we are on to the new receptionist eyeing you up on your new suit jacket- the one you snapped a photo of yourself in before purchasing and sent to me. Of course, she is eyeing you up, your bewilderment is adorable. I tell you that she had better watch herself as you are taken. You just laugh at me saying "As if she had a chance. "

Your laugh makes me think of last weekend. A chance for me to be bewildered. When you suggested we meet on Friday night, I laughed. We have known each other for about two weeks. Two weeks since you pointed out we have been glued to our phones. I had taken you to my oldest friends. You'd taken me to your brothers.

When work and life pulled us away, there were the texts. The daily selfies and recounting of our days. The morning get-ready togethers - your attempt to make me into a morning person. (Do you know how few people could motivate me to get out of bed that early?)The calls before bed and the reluctance to hang up. I had decidedly not been looking for you. I wanted a distraction, then you were there a part of my life as easily as if we'd known each other for years. Suddenly, when something happened, I wanted to tell you. You'd call me on your lunch and we'd laugh over your coworkers. You text me under conference tables during meetings. I text you in between errands and dropping off papers. I'm not sure how this happened but it's not anything I would change for any reason.

The fact that you are four hours away has not been lost on me. The fact that you wanted to see me, probably should not have been a surprise. It was. I figured that it was better to know early on if we were going to be able to sustain ourselves in our cosplay relationship. I know you hate it when I call it that. It's sort of true though. We had never been in each other's presence. You offered to fix that by meeting me on "neutral ground". Midway, drinks, then whatever. As if you and I were ever going to be a "whatever", I appreciated the no-pressure approach though.

Thus, without overthinking, we agreed to meet Saturday at this hotel for drinks and "whatever". I changed about sixty times before I left my house that afternoon. I could not decide between a dress or pants. I could not decide between hair up or down, glasses off or on. It's not as if you haven't seen me for close to fourteen different days. Days I hadn't slept, mornings without any makeup, days I went a little too hard on the eye makeup, and times where you made me laugh so hard my eyes watered smearing my mascara. Still, I didn't want to show up looking anything less than confident. Since you manage to look pulled together and sexy at seven in the morning after rolling out of bed, I figured you would be your usual handsome self. I settled on one of knee length black dresses that was low cut. Comfortable, sort of pulled together, and an abundance of cleavage.

Parking my car in the parking lot was an issue for me. I am nervous. It's crazy to meet someone from the internet right? You are a serial killer or will hate me. Right? I had made the mistake of listening to Taylor Swift's album most of the way down. It's a lovely album but mostly about relationships gone wrong. Not labeling this as more than anything than what it is- which is early- but I probably could have done a little better on the thematic music. Before I went in I decided to blast " I just want to love you" by Jay Z. Slightly better. I need the energy and silliness. I used those few minutes to check my makeup and try to make my hair look less insane.

Walking into the hotel lobby is even harder than parking. I am distracted and trip over my flats. You, of course, enter at this point. We laugh over my klutziness. You have flowers. Smooth Nick. I don't know what to say for a moment or what to do. I want to kiss your mouth, but I'm not sure how much you are feeling that at the moment. One thing I will give old Taylor is that she talks about not having seen anyone so lit from within before. I feel this is the only way to describe you at this point. Lit from within. You don't have your glasses on, so I get the full effect of your big dark eyes with those enviable lashes. Every strand of your thick black hair is in place. Your cheekbones are sharp and your mouth is delicious. You've shaved and even your usual five o clock isn't there. You look like you stepped out of an ad for watches or cologne in your sweater and dark blue jeans with the boot. I don't feel anything I would have worn would have prepared me for how I felt when I saw you. I've written about this feeling, but it's been a very long time since I've felt it for anyone.

Ever the gentleman you grab the flowers from one hand and my bag from the other one. I start to thank you as you set them on the chair by us. You turn back to me surprising me by pulling me in close to you. I get a full second of looking into your face before you are pressing your mouth to mine. I just have to say that those are the type of kisses that I am afraid to go in my unrecoverable file. You know the kind of kisses, that no matter what happens with us, will be something I will recall with fondness. My mind goes completely blank for the few moments you are pressed against me.

When we pull away from each other's mouths, it's still not much better. Looking into your eyes makes me feel off-balanced in the most delightful way. It's like falling down the rabbit hole in Alice in wonderland. You kiss my forehead and say "Mine. "

I laugh a little dazed that you exist. I laughingly say. " Presumptuous much?" as if there's a question here. Silly stupid things we've talked about and you've decided to hang onto this. As if I'd complain.

You lean over tilt me back to kiss me like we are in some grand 1940s romance. I genuinely have trouble breathing when you do this. Utterly swoon-worthy. I'm not sure who taught you how to kiss like that but they have my eternal gratitude. When you straighten us both backup, you still don't leave me to go. You kiss my cheek and whisper into my ear again.

"Mine. "

"Yours" I whisper back.

I push back a nonexistent stray hair so I can touch your hair, and I move my hand down touching your cheek. So this is going to be our thing outside of our play. I'm down with this for the moment. It also makes things incredibly easy for both of us. No second guessing what the other one wants. Although I guess from our conversations this should also be apparent. The last thing I want to do is disappoint you though.

I'm pretty sure I would have had sex with you in the lobby, the bar, the bathroom, and the elevator. You sensibly lead my still somewhat mute ass to the elevator while grabbing my stuff in one hand and holding my hand with the other. My god, your hands Nick. It makes me seriously wonder if you do office work. If I did not have all the pictures. I get the roughness from golfing, but just yes. Your hand entirely dwarfs my own. I try not to focus too much on how you feel touching my hand, let alone anything else.

When we get in the elevator, you push the button. As the elevator rises, you drop my hand and pull me close to you via my waist. I stretch up to kiss you, You are even the perfect height- only a few inches on me. Your beautiful, soft mouth is always close by and accessible. I feel you bump against me and I realize you are fully hard. It takes all my self-control and the lucky fact that the hotel only has so many floors, to not pull you out of your jeans. It does not stop my hands from roaming over your hard dick or from grabbing your ass. You return the favor, dropping my stuff while wrapping your arms around me.

By the time, the elevator doors opened, I'm not sure I could repeat my full name to anyone. The only thing I'm thinking of is you, Nick. I want you inside me. I want you all over me and me all over you. I want to kiss every single inch of skin on your body. I let you lead me to the hotel room. I don't remember you opening the door, just us suddenly on the bed. You are on top of me, me pulling at your jeans while you push my dress up. When you get high enough, you realize that I have, for convenience's sake, of course, skipped my underwear. I am so turned on that feeling your hand between my legs almost makes me come. It doesn't much better when you push a finger inside me.

"God you are so wet. " you practically groan.

You push another finger into me and start thrusting them in and out. It feels so good I want to cry, but I don't want to cum without you. I push your hands away and grasp at your waist.

"Now Nick, now," I'm practically begging you.

You don't hesitate to put yourself up to my entrance and thrust inside roughly. You stretch me, You aren't much longer than most men I've been with but my god you are thicker. You are perfect. If you were any bigger it would be a problem as aroused as I am. You are still big enough that I have the pleasure of feeling fully full with you.

Neither of us lasts more than a few moments. My hips moving against yours, I try to hold back. I don't want this moment, our first moment, to be over so soon. I can't help it though. You are looking down at me with those dark eyes. Every cell in my body is lighting up into small bursts of flame like a thousand birthday candles lighting me up. When I can't hold back anymore, I don't just orgasm, the feeling in my pelvis explodes so hard, I feel myself coming around your dick, I don't think you were prepared for that either. As soon as you feel me start to cum, I feel you stiffen and let go as well. You make this sound in your throat that is so sexy I find my orgasm cresting harder.

We both collapse back on the bed. I notice your hand is full of one of my breasts still. I hadn't noticed as the feeling between my legs was so intense. Your hands are huge and still don't completely cover my right breast. It doesn't matter. You lay your head against them still fondling my nipple. You are still inside me, softening, I am still every so often pulsing slightly. I'd like to say that this was a one-off. I'd like to say that we were both just horny. I don't think any of that is true though. I think it's you. Us. I don't know where you came from but I'd like to live in that place or in this hotel room where I get to spend copious amounts of time with you inside me.

You look up at me smiling. "Hello, Stranger."

How are you this fucking adorable in real life? It's bad enough you look that way in photos. Then you show up in my life when things are a mess, and make things start to make sense again without doing anything- by merely fucking existing. It's the things I have been writing about for months before this. I don't have the copies to give you love, but rest assured, I could not have dreamt you up any better. I feel like I don't need to write about you because there's nothing to improve on. Could I write anything better than this?

"I didn't know it would be like this," you say to me kissing me before removing yourself from me finally.

"I did," I say. Of course, it was like this. It sounds silly but I know you from somewhere. I don't believe in much of anything but you lately. I do know that in the last weeks, I've slept. I'd gotten up early, I'd done my stuff. I've spent all day with you like we were connected by bright invisible threads across the state. I'd go home and you were there. We'd chat while we cooked out dinners or while I soaked in the tub. Then I'd fall asleep you being the last thing I heard in my ear.

I could not even escape you in my sleep- I'd dream of you and us outside in one of our "spots" to eat lunch together. The funny thing is most of these dreams are not sexual exactly just intimate. We talk, and I get to watch you just being you. Just my brain pulling you and me together in the places we talked about. The places we'd both inhabited at different times were like two faded memories brought bright by being brought together outside time and space.

Now this time is immortalized in space. If you need me to write you love letters every day I'd be more suited than spending this time rehashing part of our perfection or imagining all the things we actually will do. You know how this story ends or begins. It's almost over, it's just begun. Of course, you are worth writing for.