Page 28 of Ted's Temerity
“Ugh. Fine.” He climbs off my lap with obvious reluctance. “Be right back.”
“I’ll be waiting.” I fist my cock for emphasis.
I don’t bother watching as he races in the direction of the kitchen, but I hear his victorious “Got it!” and the dull sound of the denim hitting the tiles before he’s back in front of me again, the little square pouch of lube extended in one hand.
“For now,” he says with a grin, “you’re going to fuck me. But one day, we’ll switch it up.”
“Anything you want, Zeph.” And I mean it. I want to give him the world.
But today I’ll settle for a mind-blowing orgasm or two.
He straddles my lap again, kissing me as I manage to awkwardly tear open the little packet and coat my fingers. I take my time opening him up as he grinds his cock against mine, stretching him with three fingers before I deem him ready enough to ride me. I squeeze the last of the lube out into my palm and slick up my cock, then guide Zephyr until he’s sinking down onto me in one smooth, swift move.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe and dig my fingers into his hips. As always, the sensation of being inside him is beyond exquisite, even more so now that we’ve agree to go bare. “I’ll never get used to how good you feel.”
Using muscles toned from a lifetime of dancing, he starts to bounce in my lap, his knees on either side of my ass, sinking into the couch. “Right back at you,” he says between movements, closing his eyes as my cock grazes over his prostate. “Oh,Daddy.”
“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take what you need.”
I love watching him like this. Love feeling him use me for his own pleasure. It’s so different to have someone else set the pace, to hand the reins over to someone else and let them control the experience, but it’s also surprisingly freeing. And watching Zephyr this way, knowing that he’s comfortable enough to take whatever he needs from me, fills me with pride, warmth, and affection.
“T-touch my cock,” he stammers out as he finds the angle and pace guaranteed to have him hurtling over the finish line before too long. “Please.”
As if I need to be begged for that. My hand closes around his length, stroking and squeezing the way he likes best, and he begins his usual litany of curses as the pleasure builds.
I focus on him. On his blissed-out expression. On the sheen of sweat on his skin. On the precum dribbling down his cock, aiding my hand’s endeavors. On the panted out swear words and the sounds of him taking his pleasure from me. On the slapping sound of skin meeting skin as he rides me with wild abandon.
I’m rocking my hips up to meet him with every bounce and it’s not long before the swears turn into the tell-tale train of fast cussing that precipitates his whole body tensing and ropes of cum spurting over my fist and our shirts. As always, he clenches around my cock as he comes and I’m unable to prevent myself from releasing my own load inside him.
We’re a sticky, panting, practically glowing mess as we come down from the high of our mutual orgasms, but Zephyr makes no move to pull off me, not even as I start to soften. He drops his head to my shoulder and kisses my neck.
“I swear,” he declares with a smile in his voice, “every time we do that, I think I’m going to black out with how hard you make me come.”
“You did all the hard work this time, kitten,” I remind him lazily, rubbing my clean hand over his back.
The sound he responds with is non-committal.
With reluctance, I tap his bare ass with my open palm. “Come on,” I tell him, “Let’s go clean up.”
* * *
After an extended shower, Zephyr locates his phone and offers me a wide smile as he holds it up. “Are we going?” he asks, practically bouncing on his feet. I frown.
“Are we going where?”
“To Ash and Charlie’s place,” he points at the phone screen, “they’ve invited us all around for an impromptu cookout. It’s in the group chat.”
I muted the group chat weeks ago. It’s not uncommon for me to need to do so occasionally. It is a large group which is becoming even larger with everyone’s partners being read in, and they talk a lot of crap sometimes. The sheer number of notifications can be ridiculous and distracting when I’m at work. The guys, including Cherie and Kate, are generally accepting of the fact that I miss most of the conversations and don’t participate a lot.
But I didn’t mute the chat for work reasons this time.
After talking to Charlie about my past, I gave myself a time-out from the chat. I trust that he hasn’t told any of the others, not even Ash. If he had, I would have been inundated with calls or messages, because our group is meddlesome like that.
Not that I don’t think they’d all be supportive and kind, mind you. Because they would be. They’re wonderful people. But I don’t want our dynamic to change. I don’t want their pity, or for things to become stilted or awkward.
Like they have with Charlie.
It hurts that my closest friend and I aren’t exactly speaking right now. And, alright: I asked him to drop it and to give me space and he’s done just that, so I should be grateful. Besides, it’s not as though we fought. Sure, Charlie’s got a right to feel a little hurt or insulted that I never confided in him, but he needs to be able to understand that I had my reasons and that it’s my right to keep my personal issues…well, personal.
