latermaybe | (no subject)

Possessiveness was an ugly trait, but we'd stopped trying to hide our flaws from one another a long time ago. And was it really so terrible to belong to someone? To want a piece of that person, all for yourself?

"How could I have ever trusted anyone else to do this?" I pointed out, arching back against him, my hand reaching back blindly to grasp at his hip. "Only you."

“Only me,” I repeat on an exhale, fingers digging into his hips as I snap my hips forward, picking up the pace. My forehead goes to the back of his neck and I put my hand over his on my hip, slotting our fingers together and biting at his sweat damp ski. I want to suck a bruise there, mark him for everyone to see, but I manage to pull myself away before I can. Later, upstairs, I’ll leave bruises on the insides of his thighs where only I can see.

The counter rattles a little with the force of our lovemaking, seeing ballpoint pins and highlighters rolling to the floor, and I laugh under my breath as I work my hand between the counter and his body so I can grab his cock. It’s so hard, so wet, and I let out a possessive grunt against the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“Not until I say,” I remind him, stroking him with a loose grip, counterpoint to the rocking of my hips. “Remember?”

"I remember," I whispered, breathless and sagging nearly face down onto the counter and drooling with pleasure. My knees knocked against the shelf beneath the counter, and later I hoped there would be bruises. I wanted the shape of his hands on my hips, his mouth on my neck. I wanted to crawl inside of him and never leave.

"I want to see you," I complained, laughing breathlessly. "This is really hot, but we should've done this upstairs."

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” I pant against his neck, letting out a rough chuckle that turns into a growl as I bite as his neck again, holding the skin between my teeth as I plunge into him again, hips snapping together. Desperate heat flares out from the base of my spine, surging through my blood and making my heart pound against my ribs, and my breath hitches as I grind my hips against his ass.

“If I let you come, will you get hard for me again upstairs?” I ask against his ear, thumbing at the wet, swollen head of his cock. “I’m not done with you yet.”

"This isn't adventurous enough for you?" I teased him, shoving my weight back against him with a heavy groan. His teeth caught on my neck, and I almost came right then, permission or not.

"God, yes. Yeah, I'll... fuck," I gasped, toes curling and my thighs trembling with the effort to hold off just a few moments longer.

“Oh, I suppose,” I grunt out, trying to sound flippant and failing utterly. His hips slam back against me, urgent and needy, and I gasp and clench my teeth, groaning as I do my best to hold back.

Somehow, right on the precipice of orgasm, I still have the thought to move my other hand forward and curl it in front of the head of his cock so that he doesn’t shoot all over the workspace. It makes me laugh, wild and breathless, and I bite his neck again.

“Come,” I gasp against his skin, and then immediately let out a soft cry as my orgasm takes hold, thighs tensing as I come hard inside of him, squeezing him against me. “Oliver.”

It was almost ridiculous, how quickly I came after he'd granted his permission. My body had been trained, not only by his hands and his cock, but the sound of his voice, and the promise of more.

I made a mess of his hand, my own wheeze of laughter swallowed up by a strangled moan as I shuddered against him, bent double over the counter and rutting back shamelessly onto his cock.

"Fuck. Fuck," I breathed, knees nearly buckling as I slumped against the counter, trembling in the aftermath.

Oliver comes wildly, giving himself over to it, and I can do little more than hold on for dear life. His knees weaken and I grab at his middle, smearing his come across his belly, and huff out a laugh against his back as we sag against the counter.

“Okay, okay,” I say soothingly, letting go of his cock to squeeze at his hip again. For a long moment we stay like that, slumped over the counter to catch our breath, and eventually I pull out of him with a soft hiss, looking down to watch as my cock slips out of him. “Think we can make it upstairs?”

"Give me a minute," I asked, laughing weakly as I finally pushed myself upright, my hip cocked to rest against the edge of the counter. We were both a mess, my slacks still bunched around my shins, my cock softening and slick with come, the warmth of his leaking down the back of my thighs. Finally, I hitched up my pants, zipping them but leaving my belt undone.

"Okay, point me in that direction," I teased, reaching out a hand to ruffle it through his already messy hair.

One hand wet with his come, I manage to tug my slacks up with the other, tucking my half-hard cock into them but not bothering with the zipper. When Oliver turns and drags his fingers through my hair, I smile up at him and bring my index finger to my mouth, cheekily holding his gaze as I lick his come from the pad of it, cheeks hollowing briefly as I suck it clean. The taste of it is salty and slightly bitter, not bad but not great either, but I love tasting him in such a concentrated form. More than that, I love the look on his face when I do it.

“Come on, sweetheart. I haven’t fucked the life out of you,” I tell him, curling my arm around his waist as I lead him toward the stairs. Tomorrow morning I’ll come down and tidy up, wipe down the counters and perhaps light a candle, but right now I’m thinking only of him. “Not yet, anyway.”

We only make it halfway up the stairs before I turn to pull him into a kiss. I only mean for it to be a brief peck, but it quickly turns into something deeper, and I suck on his tongue for a bit before pulling away and pushing admonishingly at his chest, as if he started it. “Stop distracting me.”

Edited 2023-09-03 02:05 (UTC)

"You're the distraction," I laughed, taking him by the shoulders and all but herding him up the last few steps. At the door, I fumble his keys from his pocket, distracted by the taste of the curve of his neck.

We tumble through the door, tripping over one another, and without turning on the light, I start in on his clothes, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and urging him out of his slacks.

The urgency renews as we tumble through the door and I turn to face him, kissing him as we fumble with each other’s shirt buttons and kick off our shoes. I walk backward toward the bedroom, kicking off my pants and pushing his down. One of us trips and we stumble against the door jamb, laughing as my back hits the frame.

“Ow. Now we’ll both have bruise,” I say against his mouth, kissing and nipping along his jaw before turning his body and pushing him back hard. He falls back against the bed, bouncing as he lands, and I lean between his legs to grab at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them off his legs. My hand curls around his ankle and I lift it to my shoulder, turning my head to kiss at the vulnerable knob of bone.

“I want to see you,” I say in low Italian, spreading his legs wider until I can look down and catch a glimpse of his hole, pink and open and leaking my come. “Fuck.”

Hitting the mattress with a grunt, I lifted my hips to help him strip me of my clothes from the waist down, my open shirt still hanging off my shoulders and bunched beneath my back. He echoed the same plea I'd given him downstairs, and I groaned, knees falling wider, my cock lurching against my belly.

"What do you see?" I asked, clenching pointedly as I thumbed at the slick head of my cock, one arm thrown over my head. "Tell me."

Oliver laying back against the pillows, naked saved for a dress shirt billowing around his shoulders and legs spread— it’s just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Over and over again, it hits me just how beautiful he is, and how lucky I am. For as long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.

He puts on a show for me, touching himself and posing like a centerfold, and I get on the bed on my knees, resting his ankle on my shoulder as he speaks.

“You look like you’re mine. Let you would let me do anything to you,” I tell him, pressing closer until I can touch my thumb to his hole, circling it before pushing it in. “All wet and pink and perfect, pesca.”

I smirk a little at the nickname, thinking of a peach in his hand leaking just like he is now. And like he did then, I lean down and press my mouth to him, replacing my thumb with my tongue, lapping the taste of myself from his body.

“I’m sick, aren’t I?” I ask when I lift my head, looking up his body with a wicked smile, and it’s clear that I already know the answer, and I’m proud of it.

"I would," I admitted, arching into the press of his thumb, a low groan falling from my parted lips. "I'd let you do anything."

His lips pressed between my spread legs, and I threw my head back, gasping as I murmured my agreement. "Sick, like I'm sick."

We were different in so many ways, but exactly the same where it counted most. I wanted to be a mess, but only when he made me that way. I'd only ever felt free to be myself when he was standing beside me, when I could encourage him to do the same.

Oliver makes such beautiful noises when we’re together like this, and I am selfishly glad that I get to be the only one to ever hear them. He might have enjoyed himself with the women he slept with, might have gotten off, but it’s only me that makes him whine and whimper, back arching and thighs trembling. These things are just for me, and I’ll always be greedy for more.

I kiss and bite at the inside of his thighs, sucking a bruise into one of them, and then slowly make my way up his body— bypassing his cock to mouth along the crease of his thigh, and just under his navel.

“Anything, huh?” I say as I lift my head, giving him a mischievous smirk and then leaning over to open the bottom drawer of my nightstand, digging around until I find the silver vibrator at the back of it. Oliver doesn’t remember most of our times with this toy, and I am suddenly eager to make new memories.

Sitting up between his spread legs, I slip the toy from its velvet pouch and touch the tip of it against the inside of his thigh, drawing a slow line without turning it on.

“I want to play with you,” I tell him, looking up at his face with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Do you think you could keep from coming if I put this inside of you, pesca? Could you be good for me?”

I lifted my head to watch him rummage around in the nightstand, a rush of heat flaring through my chest when I saw his hand emerge gripping the silver vibrator hidden in the back. I'd never had much interest in toys. I didn't see the point. But as he drew the cold tip of it along the inside of my thigh, my cock lurched, my heart skipping along with it.

Mouth dry, I nodded, legs spreading shamelessly. "Let's find out," I said roughly, my eyes meeting his own.

As aroused and eager as I am, I still watch his face closely for any hint of discomfort. We’ve done this before, but he doesn’t remember and I know that he doesn’t owe me anything just because some other version of him has given it to me before.

“Okay. Tell me if you don’t like it,” I tell him in a more serious tone, dropping the act for a moment. Leaning across him, I grab the lube and pause to wink at him. “But I have a pretty good feeling that you will.”

As I lube up the toy, I twist the base to turn it on and even at the lowest setting, the buzz of it still sounds so loud in the quiet room. A surge of lust sparks through me as I remember vividly what it felt like to have this toy and Oliver inside me at the same time. Oliver doesn’t even remember our time spent in different bodies, and I find myself wondering if that’s something that can happen twice.

Nodding again, my eyes widened at the loud buzz of the toy, a soft, almost nervous chuckle falling from my lips. "You'll know, if I don't," I promised, taking hold of his wrist gently and drawing it closer between my legs.

With anyone else, I probably would've balked at the idea of having something like that inside of me, but with him, I wanted to do everything. Try everything. I couldn't imagine ever getting tired of exploring each other.

“I know you,” I assure him, mouth going slack as he grips my wrist, guiding the toy to his hole where he’s still slick from earlier. My other hand wraps around his cock, stroking a few times before pressing the tip of the vibrator inside of him, still on low.

It sinks in slowly, swallowed by his body, and I stare down in fascination, chest heaving as I shift closer to him. Once it’s halfway in, I pause and look up at his face, thumbing at the wet head of his cock.

“How’s that feel?” I ask breathlessly, leaning over him and biting my bottom lip. “You look so gorgeous, Oliver.”

"Strange," I admitted honestly, breathing through the unyielding intrusion of the cold length of the vibrator. The buzz was gentle, almost negligible, until the angle shifted slightly, and I felt the deep pulse of it against my prostate.

"Good. Oh, fuck. It's good. Don't stop."

Oliver sparks like a live wire, arching beautifully as the toy touches his prostate, and I grin down at him. My own cock is rock hard, flushed and leaking, but it barely crosses my mind. All of my attention is on Oliver, and he’s the only thing I care about.

“I don’t plan on it,” I assure him, pulling the toy nearly all of the way out and turning up the power a little before pushing it in again, making sure to angle it to press against his prostate again. This time I hold it there for a long moment, letting him feel the relentless buzz before fucking him with another long, slow thrust. “Told you that you’d like it. I’m always right.”

"Oh, God. I didn't... I didn't doubt you," I said breathlessly. Any hesitancy I'd felt was long gone. My body took over, hips rocking mindlessly in time with those agonizingly slow thrusts, my thighs trembling every time the shaft of the toy dragged past my prostate.

"Fuck, I don't know if I can take this for long," I admitted with a breathless laugh. I reached for him clumsily, one hand gripping his side, the other curling around his painfully hard cock.

“That’s okay,” I assure him with a fond chuckle, breath catching as his big hand wraps around my cock. I drop the game entirely, too distracted by his wanton pleasure that I can barely do anything but stare and thrust the toy into him a little quicker, twisting it each time.

“I had grand plans of leaving this inside you while I rode you,” I admit with a broken laugh that turns into a whimper as he squeezes my cock just how I like. “Maybe some other time.”

I lean over him, planting one hand against the bed as I stare at his face, taking in every detail, absolutely awed by him.

“Do you want to come like this?” I ask him, pressing the toy deliberately against his prostate, “or on my cock? Tell me, hello.”

It would've been easy to come, just like that, the toy pressed firmly against my prostate, but I was overwhelmed by the desire to have him inside of me, again, hungry for it in a way that felt wild and unrestrained.

"Stop, stop," I croaked, gripping his hand and pushing the toy out of me. Reaching for him, I pushed him onto his back, following clumsily and throwing a leg over his hips. After only a moment of fumbling, I reached between us and held his cock steady, sinking down onto it with an unbridled groan.