Page 45 of Enemy
It would be safer to turn this into a joke, but being here feels good. I like being welcome.
“I want to stay. I will,” I tell him, so close I can only see his blue eyes, in frames of golden lashes, and the pores in the soft skin around them.
Clyde closes his eyes and leans in for a kiss. It’s deeper this time, more needy, full of affection for my tongue. Maybe it’s the steam or the hot water, or the way he closes his eyes, but I’m both horny and relaxed at the same time.
He gets some shower gel as well, but doesn’t bother with my chest, going straight back in for my cock. The stroking is faster now thanks to the easy glide. I’ll smell of him after this in a whole new way. Not of his sweat or cum, but of the soap he uses. I hope it stays with me long after I leave tomorrow.
While we have dozed off together on a blanket a few times after a fuck, we’ve never spent the night together before. A primal part of me wants to make sure I leave a mark on his space as well. I could leave behind my top and imagine Clyde sleeping in it instead of throwing it away. Or, I could take something of his and keep it in secret.
A moan leaves my lips, muffled by his eager mouth. I shiver every time my tongue slides against his, as if fireworks are going off inside my mouth and sending sparks all the way down. I grab his erection too, rubbing it with my soapy hand. But with the water flowing, I soon find myself following a fat drop off Clyde’s chin, onto his chest.
His whole body is a work of art. If he were a motorcycle, he’d be one I couldn’t afford. I’d just have totakeit. I’d always thought Clyde was a smug asshole who got everything served to him on a silver platter, but when I trail my tongue over his skin, I can’t help feeling that he does deserve it all. When he’s no longer punching me for looking at him the wrong way, I want to worship every muscle in his strong body. Access to him is what fuels me every day since he said those fateful words in the burning warehouse. So I tastehis pecs and roll my tongue against his nipple while I slowly move my hand over his hard dick. I can taste the aromas of his shower gel, and while I’m certain there was not a drop of real whiskey in the soap, my brain blurs, as if I’m getting drunk.
Clyde lets go of my shaft when I twist my body to kiss his chest with more ease, and his hands roll up my flanks, finding their goal on my head. Fuck, how I love it when he strokes my nearly bare scalp, teasing the unprotected skin. He has no idea what effect this has on me.
“I love it so short on you,” he mutters. “So fucking butch.”
A shiver goes down my back. He doesn’t have to compliment me. We’d fuck anyway, yet he wants me to feel good, wants me to know what he likes. I’m dying to understand him inside out. Every fantasy he has, I want to fulfill. I hope one of them is me on top of him, balls-deep inside that gorgeous dimpled ass.
I laugh and find the scar that wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for me. It’s mended well, and the surgeon who closed it did a good job, but I’m still a bit sentimental about it. It’s a memento of the terrible night that brought us together, just like the burn on my face, or the post-surgery scars from when doctors put me back together. It’s a damn miracle I’ve fully recovered. Sure, there’s pain when the weather changes, and my mobility isn’t what it used to be, but it’s almost good enough. I’m fine with that.
Gasping softly, I suck Clyde’s nipple, but as I roll my stubbly cheek against his skin and open my eyes, the sight of his cockhead between my fingers gives me pause.
Plump and wet, it pulses in my grip, so very fucking alive.
I moan when Clyde licks my nape, pulling him more tightly against me as I try to make sense of the messy jumble of thoughts rolling around in my skull. He’s been good at not pushing the issue, happy to give me head despite me never returning the favor.
Seeing him enjoy it so much, has made me wonder a few times. I don’t dwell on my past. What’s happened, happened, but my reaction that time he asked me to go down on him was instinctual.
But now that I’ve learned about Clyde’s soft side… his cock no longer looks as threatening. Just like the rest of him, Clyde’s dick deserves to be kissed.
As much as Clyde resents me for pointing it out, there’s a submissive side to him when he’s with me. Sure, he’s strong, confident, and can land a mean punch, but under me? He lets me lead, spreads his legs to make room for me, and even when we kiss, he often yieldsto my tongue. I can’t explain it. It’s an energy I sense in him, and it compliments my need for pushing him into the mattress perfectly.
So maybe his cock in my mouth wouldn’t feel like something I have to endure?
He is beautiful, smells nice, and being here, in his space puts me at ease. I wish I could kiss away the bruise on his face.
There’s still hesitation, worry about what happens if I hate it. But that’s life, isn’t it? If he agreed to let me fuck him but decided he doesn’t like how it feels, I would be fine with it. Disappointed maybe, but there are still so many things we can enjoy. I wouldn’t throw a hissy fit or try to convince him. Would he?
“I can’t reach your dick like this…” Clyde says with a sigh as my lips explore the dip between his pecs. “And I really want to. Four days without it was a struggle.”
“Same,” I mumble, decision made.
The tiles feel hard under my knees, but between the furious heartbeat echoing in my skull and the taste of clean water I’m sampling on my way down, I don’t give a fuck. I moan when his cock glides along the side of my neck, but then I taste it, lips spreading over the smooth head while my tongue makes a gentle dip into the hole at the tip.
“Oh?...Oh!” Clyde’s moan is so delightful it reinforces my decision.
His hand is back on my head, but he doesn’t push, just strokes my buzz cut, and the swirl it makes across my skull sends a jolt down my tongue, to where I explore the clean flavor of his arousal. There’s a hint of salt too, but it’s a pleasant spice I long for rather than a bitterness to ignore.
It’s odd to be in this position, on my knees for another man, but I do want to learn his body by heart. I want to make him feel good. I already love to make him come, so this will be a new way to achieve that.
“Don’t push,” I say, and my voice echoes softly, barely audible over the noise of the falling water, which now feels like additional fingers stroking my head and back as I close my lips around the hard shaft and suck, trying to remember how I like it done.
“Okay,” he whispers, and his fingers slide to my ticklish ear every now and then, stroking me. “Oh fuck…” Clyde moans when I hollow my cheeks and suck harder.
It’s only then that I remember there’s more of him and close my hand around the shaft. A tingling heat gathers inside me, hot yet fleeting as vapor, and I find myself shivering when a salty drop of pre-cum spreads across my tongue. My toes curl, and I bob my head, checking how it would feel to let him in deeper.
His fingers twitch, his stomach grows ever tenser, and I wonder what he looks like. Is he watching me, or are his eyes closed as he imagines whatever porny scenario he finds the hottest? Self-conscious as being in this position makes me, I soon lose the fight with my own fears and exhale, following the waterfall of hard muscle all the way up.
