(no subject)

[latermaybe]

from here.

"Fuck me, right here," I murmured to him in Italian, words muffled against his lips. "Don't let me come. Not until you say."

He'd teased me about fucking in my office, with me bending him over the desk after hours, but despite my reluctance, it wasn't a fantasy he harbored alone.

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[latermaybe]

"Whatever you want," I said breathlessly, my weight shifting impatiently, bent half over the counter with my head hanging low. I wanted so badly to touch myself, my cock aching to the point of pain, but I kept my hands pressed tightly against the counter, my knuckles going white.

"I want whatever you want," I reiterated, the distinction suddenly important. We only ever had control of each other when we freely gave it. We had the freedom to explore each other, and our own desires, because we trusted each other more than either of us ever thought possible.

[speakordie]

His words make me groan low in my throat and I press my forehead to the back of his shoulder, biting at him through layers of fabric. The declaration itself is sexy, but it’s the easy trust that he displays that makes me feel hot all over.

I need this right now, just for tonight, and he knows that because he knows me. I love him so much that for a second it hurts to breathe, chest seizing up until I let out a harsh gasp and kiss the back of his neck.

“I knew I’d thank myself for this one day,” I say with a breathless chuckle, blinking the sting out of my eyes as I crouch down and reach toward the back of one of the shelves under the counter. My hand closes around a small packet of lube that I stashed away on one hopeful afternoon and I pull it out, holding it between two fingers as I grab at his waistband, tugging his pants and underwear down to his upper thighs.

“Wider,” I tell him, shouldering his thighs farther apart and pressing my face between his cheeks to lick at his hole. The lube falls to the floor as I get my hands on his ass, spreading him open and lapping at him obscenely, tongue pressing in against tight muscle with a hungry moan.

[latermaybe]

"How many of those do you have stashed around?" I asked, my shoulders shaking slightly with my own breathless laughter as I moved to comply with his direction. A startled gasp of a moan escaped me as he pressed his face against my ass, and I muttered, "My God," as I reached down to tug at my cock, forgetting his earlier instruction to keep my hands on the counter.

"Are you fucking me, or torturing me?"

[speakordie]

"I've honestly lost count," I reply with a laugh of my own, because it's become a habit of mine to hide packets of lube whenever we have to restock. It's become something of a game that I play with myself, but thankfully it's come in handy time and time again.

As distracted as I am with my face between his cheeks, it takes me a few moments to notice that Oliver's hand is around his cock. Once I do, I pull back and reach up to give his ass a sharp smack, just hard enough to leave a pink echo of my fingertips against his skin.

"Hey, what'd I say?" I reach up to hook my fingers in the crook of his elbow and tug his arm away with a disapproving click of my tongue. "And here I was being so nice to you."

[latermaybe]

"The customers probably think they're... some kind of sex-positive freebies," I decided, grinning that the thought of some unsuspecting person finding one tucked inside one of their books.

I was startled from my reverie by the sting of his palm, and letting out a sharp gasp, I said hurriedly, "Sorry, sorry," and forced my palm back onto the counter.

[speakordie]

“I do try to be a little discreet,” I assure him, smiling at his reaction to the slap. There’s a faint pink smudge on his pale skin and I drag my tongue over it, then blow cool air to soothe the burn. “I am somewhat respectable.”

As I slowly get to my feet, I tear open the lube and get half it it on my fingers, leaning against his back and reaching between his legs to press my slick middle finger into him all at once.

“It’s okay, pesca,” I assure him, moving my finger in and out of him a few times before pressing in with two, humming as I feel him relax enough to let me in. My chin hooks over his shoulder as I finger him, the sound of it almost obscene in the quiet shop. I kiss his neck, nose behind his ear like we have all the time in the world. “You trust me to take care of you, don’t you?”

[latermaybe]

"Of course, what was I thinking," I teased, a groan catching in my throat as his tongue dragged across my bare ass. The moment, standing under the dimmed lights of the shop, was more than a little surreal, and as he leaned in to whisper in my ear, I felt myself nearly swoon.

"Always," I murmured, pressing back against him and falling heavily onto my elbows, my forehead nearly touching the counter top.

[speakordie]

“Oh my.” A chuckle escapes me as he folds himself over on the counter, like he’s unable to hold himself up. It’s a low, soft sound, hoarse from my own arousal, and I slide my free hand soothingly up and down his back as I work my fingers in and out of him until I feel he’s ready for me.

“Okay, pesca. Okay,” I say soothingly, slowly pulling my slick fingers out of him and using the remaining lube on my own cock, biting my bottom lip hard as I stroke myself. After wiping my hand on my slacks, I grip him by the hip and position myself behind him, in awe of the way he’s displaying such open need.

The tails of his shirt are a little in the way so I let go of his hip to drag them up, exposing his lower back as I nudge the head of my cock against his hole. I can’t help but to tease him a little, pressing in and withdrawing a few times before sinking all the way into him, bottoming out with a stuttering moan. I told myself over him, pressing kisses to the back of his neck before biting hard at it, like a possessive animal in the middle of a rut. “You feel so good.”

[latermaybe]

With a breathless laugh, I said, "Brat," in a way that had only ever been an endearment. He pressed against me and I trembled with the effort to hold still, blunt nails scrabbling on the scarred wood of the counter and my toes curling inside my loafers.

"Oh, God," I groaned, my breath fogging up the wood beneath my cheek. "Just for you," I murmured, my brain a buzzing haze of always and yours and more, God, more. It was absurd, how well we could play one another— all the fine-tuning of having been together for years, with none of the loss of passion.

[speakordie]

“Damn right,” I growl out, biting his neck again and curling my arm around his hips, dragging him back against me. “All mine.”

There’s no point in denying that I feel possessive of him. It’s an unseemly quality to have, but I have plenty of those already. What’s one more?

He’s mine, mine, and I am just as much his.

“Mm, I’m the only one to ever do this,” I murmur in low Italian, sliding one hand down the center of his back as I straighten up a little. After gliding my palm along the small of his back, I move it up to curl around his shoulder, holding him in place as I start to fuck him with slow rolls of my hips. “I love that, Oliver.”

[latermaybe]

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."

[speakordie]

“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?”

[latermaybe]

"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."

[speakordie]

“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.”

[latermaybe]

"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.

[speakordie]

“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.”

[latermaybe]

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.

[speakordie]

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?”

[latermaybe]

"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.

[speakordie]

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.”

[latermaybe]

"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.

[speakordie]

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.”

[latermaybe]

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."

[speakordie]

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.

[latermaybe]

"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.