A/N: Sooooo, it's been over 2 years since I last updated... ( _ _)" Is anyone still here, reading this? I'm genuinely curious, please let me know!
I've only just realised that the last 3 chapters focused quite heavily on Jez, and I guess that might not have been very interesting for anyone who might not particularly like him (I love him, but I'm biased…). But we're back on track now, with the impending move to Paris…
This chapter contains NSFW scenes.
In which time goes by so very fast
The piano went on Monday morning. I watched the removal guys wrap it up and take it away, and God I wanted nothing more than to hover over them the entire time and tell them to be careful with my baby. It seemed crazy to think that it had come with us from America, after following us all over the place there, and now it was going to France ahead of us. I didn't really care about any of my other belongings making it safely, but blood would be spilled if my piano got damaged.
Anyway… I think that's when it really hit me that there were only a few days left, because without the piano the apartment already felt empty. So I tried to spend as little time as possible in it, especially alone, and kept avoiding Dad so I wouldn't have to put up with all the shit he kept saying, about how I should be grateful about the opportunity and whatnot. Yeah, we'd already established I was an ungrateful little shit, I didn't need to be reminded of it again and again. So I tried to go out with Michael whenever we could, and stay out for as long as we could.
On Tuesday I went to his house for the day. I showed up midmorning and left just before six — before his parents came home — and we spent the whole day chilling. We spent a really long time just sitting on the sofa in the front room, watching TV, eating and drinking. Oh and making out, of course. I think he wanted to make some kind of point by spending so long snogging the life out of me in the room, on the very sofa where his dad watched TV.
When he took me upstairs to his room, my heart, my stomach and other parts of me leapt when he made sure dear old Bagheera got out and stayed out. He'd only just closed the door when he grabbed my wrists and cleverly manoeuvred me — while I wondered what was going on — so that I ended up with my back against the door. Within seconds, he was nuzzling the side of my neck, his hands slipping under my T-shirt. Probably not a surprise if I say that a certain part of me really enjoyed that.
"This is nice…" I said with a happy sigh.
"I— I'd like to… maybe…"
I cupped his face with both hands and made him look up. "You can do whatever you want. I'm all yours."
He kissed me again, properly, the way I loved, and I probably would have done anything he wanted if he'd asked. But he didn't ask for anything, he just pulled me towards his bed. When he sat on it, let himself fall backward and pulled me with him, for a second I was taken back to Saturday night, to Jez and to what I'd nearly done, but I tried my hardest not to let it show. I couldn't help flinching a little, though, and of course he noticed.
I plastered a smile on my face and nodded before straddling and kissing him hungrily, and he grabbed my hips to pull me forward a bit. Since he'd positioned us so perfectly, I decided to sit up and grind against him and was rewarded with one of the low, guttural moans I was always surprised to hear coming from him. The pants I wore that day were a little baggy around the waist and he had no trouble slipping past and grabbing my butt once he'd unbuttoned them as we got back to kissing.
"You seem… particularly fixated on my butt today," I panted after a while.
He blushed. Furiously. "I…"
"What do you want? Tell me what you want."
"It's… complicated. Or rather… awkward. Something like that…"
I leaned over until our foreheads touched. "What do you want?"
Slowly, he moved his hands up to my hips and then my waist, where his fingers stroked the skin just above the elasticated waistband of my underwear. "I'd like to… be inside you."
I wasn't afraid of bottoming for him anymore, and I will admit I loved that. And I looked forward to it; all he had to do was to say he wanted to take me and I'd feel it right in my guts.
But I could tell that wasn't all he wanted, so I stayed right where I was and looked him straight in the eyes. "What else do you want?"
"I… I'd like…" He took a deep breath. "The preparations. I'd like to… to help."
As expected, I felt myself harden in anticipation, but I was partially distracted from it by the way my guts tightened uncomfortably at the same time. Not exactly the most enjoyable feeling. And again, he of course knew right away that something was up.
"Or maybe not," he added immediately, his hands moving up my back and rubbing the skin gently. "This is a sensitive issue, I know. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's fine. Let's do it."
"I don't want to push you."
"It's fine," I said again, leaning closer to nuzzle the side of his neck. "I asked you what you wanted and you told me."
"But what do you want?"
I paused for a second and moved away from his neck so I could look him in the eyes again. "I want what you want."
I was being honest. Yes, I was nervous. Well, part of me was. That was something extremely private, something I'd never let anyone do after the episode with Brendan — not even Jez, despite everything he had taught me, but then again that was apparently not something he was interested in anyway. It didn't really make much sense to be so… protective, I guess, of that act when we'd proven that I could deal with what happened next, but it was the last part that was mine and mine alone, and it's hard to let go of something like that. Still, I was prepared to give it a go.
We got back to kissing for a bit, until both of us became impatient and the clothes-removing stage began. My T-shirt went first, and I had to move to get his off so I just climbed off the bed and lost my trousers while I was at it. Wearing only his boxers, he sat back on his bed and held out his hand towards me again.
"Wait, I'll get my bag."
"N— That's not… necessary," he said, turning a darker shade of pink and pointing at his bedside table.
I walked over to it, opened the draw and saw the same brands of condom and lube as what you'd find in my own bedside table. I turned towards him again, grinned and raised an eyebrow. I knew it was guaranteed to make him blush even more and I wasn't disappointed. I still took too much pleasure in finding out just how red he could get.
"I thought… I just wanted to… to be prepared…" he stammered, unable to look at me.
I was about to say something to embarrass him a little more when I suddenly heard the voice at the back of my mind and froze.
Why now? Why did he wait until now? It's not like you're going to be able to enjoy these together after today. Is he preparing for after you leave? For someone else? Someone else he can sneak into his house, into his bedroom, into his bed, while his parents are out? How would you know? How would anyone know? He has learned and adapted so fast to everything you've introduced him to, hasn't he? Makes sense if he's planning to—
I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth, and even though it only lasted for a couple of seconds, it was a couple of seconds too long.
"Sorry, I got distracted…"
"Maybe we should just forget about it… or at least that part. We can just—"
I took a deep breath. "No, it's fine. Come on, let's get to it!" I added before jumping back on the bed and straddling him again. He immediately sat up, wrapped his arms around me and kissed the life out of me.
Before long, my underwear was disposed of and I tried to keep my breathing under control when he reached into the open drawer and then uncapped the lube with one hand.
"Tell me what I should do," he whispered against my lips, stroking my cheek with his other hand.
"Follow my lead, OK? I think it's better if I still… participate a little."
We were silent but kept on kissing as I guided his fingers and then let him take over. I was nervous, I was super nervous, and he knew, of course he knew, so the lips kissing me and the hand gently stroking my side seemed to be even more comforting than usual.
"Are you OK?" he asked softly after the first finger went in and I flinched despite my best effort not to.
"I'm fine, I promise."
He'd obviously paid a lot more attention than I thought all this time, because he didn't ask again, he just… he just did. He took care of me. He knew what to do and he took care of me. There was only him; his lips against mine, his hand on my hip, his fingers inside me. Him, him, him. He was everywhere and he was perfect and I was able to push the voice riiiiight at the back of my mind, for a bit at least, and… simply enjoy myself.
And I was. This was nothing like our first time — well, my our first time — when I'd almost ruined everything. So I focused on his fingers; his lovely, long, slender fingers that felt so fucking perfect and…
I flinched. Oh wow. Seriously? No, this couldn't be happening…
"Stop," I begged him. "Please, please stop!"
He froze and withdrew his fingers as if he'd been burned — making me gasp.
"I'm sorry! Wh— What did I do? Did I hurt you?"
"No, you didn't… It was—"
"What? It was what?"
I let out a long sigh and hung my head. "It was good. A little too good, all right? I felt like… like I was going to—"
The most beautiful smile suddenly lit up his face. "Really?"
I couldn't help it, I chuckled. "No need to look so smug about it."
"I'm just happy. For you, I mean. I was worried about the way you might react and—"
I lurched forward and captured his lips again while my right hand searched blindly for the condom. It took a while, but once I'd found it, I sat back again and handed it to him.
"Come on, darling, don't keep me waiting…"
The beautiful smile returned and took my breath away and… well, let's just say we made some memories that afternoon he and his bed weren't going to forget any time soon.
Two days later, we met in Leicester Square around noon. By that point our apartment was virtually empty — I couldn't bear to stay in it anymore — and we were living out of the suitcases we'd be taking with us on the Eurostar.
Mom and Dad had decided to book two rooms at the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel for Friday night. You know the impressive, long Gothic brick facade on Euston Road that was used in one of the Harry Potter movies? Yeah, that one. Five stars and all. I guess it was supposed to be a treat for the last night in London. Right…
We had an early, casual lunch, to avoid the crowds and make sure we'd actually get to eat something, and then strolled around aimlessly around St James Park and the likes. Or so I made it seem. I played it cool, acting as though I had no particular plans for the day and was happy to just spend some time together. Shortly before two o'clock, I casually made us head back towards Piccadilly Circus.
I thought I'd been doing a good job, but I was clearly mistaken.
"You know," he said at one point, entwining his fingers with mine and leaning into me, "this reminds me of our first date. When you took me to see Swan Lake and you were being all mysterious."
Well, there wasn't much point in trying to deny it, was there? I grinned so hard I thought my face was going to split in two. "Funny you should say that…"
He stopped walking and turned to me, which was absolutely perfect because that meant he wasn't paying attention to where we were. Mind you, he probably had no idea why I would want to take him to Haymarket, but hey, it was all working out perfectly.
"What have you done…?"
"Awww, you're making it sound like I've done something bad. You trust me?"
"Always," he said in a heartbeat, and my own heart swelled.
"Close your eyes and come with me."
I took him by the hand and guided him a little further along the road, until we were almost opposite the theatre. When I was happy with our location, I made him face the theatre and moved next to him.
"OK, you can look now."
I watched him as he took in the outside of the theatre, the name — Her Majesty's Theatre — and then finally the posters at the bottom. He gasped and turned to me, eyes as wide as saucers, and again I grinned so hard it kind of hurt.
"I did," I replied, taking the tickets I'd managed to get my hands on a couple of weeks before out of my bag, and holding them up. "You see, the Phantom is probably my first serious musical crush, and I'm sorry to say I don't think I'll ever get over him, so I thought it was time the two of you got acquainted. It won't be the same as it was for Swan Lake since you already—"
"I don't know anything about the Phantom of the Opera," he said, still staring at the theatre.
Well that shut me up all right. "You must have seen the movie that came out in—"
"No. I've seen it on your shelf and I've been meaning to ask you if we could watch it for a while, but, no…"
"So you know nothing?"
"Well I know the one song, a bit. I mean everybody does. Apart from that…"
"Nothing," he said with the sweetest smile, turning to me properly and kissing me.
"This is going to be amazing," I said, kissing him back. "Well I hope you'll think so anyway. But you have to. You just have to. It can't not be amazing. You'll see."
So we walked into the theatre, located our seats — in the Stalls, fourth row back; absolutely perfect! — and went to the toilet because he couldn't miss a single second of it, so he'd been instructed to make sure he didn't need to go until the interval at the earliest. On my way back I stopped to get something sweet and a program. One for him and one for me — even though I already had several of my own collected over the years, which would hopefully make it to Paris safely.
When I handed one to Michael, he grinned but kept it on his lap, unopened. "I don't want to spoil anything, but I promise I'll read it afterwards. How on earth did you get these seats?" he then asked, looking around.
"A lot of luck. Seriously, I couldn't believe it myself at first. I've seen it from lots of different places within the auditorium, but these are some of the best seats in the house. You'll see."
"I have to pay you back for my ticket. I know how expensive it is to—"
"You don't have to do anything," I said, giving his knee a quick squeeze, "because I didn't pay the full price. Mom had some theatre vouchers that she… kindly gave me, so that's that."
He looked doubtful, but it was totally true; Mom had given me her vouchers shortly after that disastrous evening, probably in an attempt to sweeten the deal a bit.
He sent a quick — and very excited — text to Claire while we waited for the show to start, and when the lights dimmed my heart suddenly started racing. That wasn't unusual, I always had that kind of reaction and it was only going to get worse once we got to the Overture. Only it was different this time because it felt like my last time — which was stupid; the show wasn't going anywhere and I'd easily be able to pop over to see it if I wanted to. Still, it felt like saying goodbye, and I wasn't ready.
So I did my best to focus on the show itself and not on what seeing it with Michael meant. The cast was good, the Phantom was charismatic the way he should be, Christine not as bland as I'd occasionally seen her portrayed, and for a while I was able to forget. And when Michael turned to me at the end of Act I, with slightly shiny eyes and a grin plastered over his face — pretty sure my own face was an exact mirror — my heart soared again.
I got us some ice cream while we stretched our legs a bit — I felt sorry for him, there wasn't much leg room and I knew he had to feel cramped — and then it was time for Act II. I wanted to watch him watching it happen, I did, but I couldn't take my own eyes off the stage. It all went by so fast, it always did. And by the end of it, well… I don't know which one of us was worst for wear. Probably me, because sometimes knowing exactly what's going to happen makes it worse, you know what I mean? The tears started early, so early, and I had to make a supreme effort to keep quiet by the time the last scene arrived. Thankfully, Michael was too busy dealing with his own reaction — or maybe kind enough to pretend he didn't notice — and so it wasn't quite as awkward as it might have been if he'd fussed over me.
The tears were still rolling down my cheeks by the time the applause died down, and I'd already been through a couple of tissues, so we just laughed at each other when I finally dared to turn to him properly. We babbled non-stop on our way out of the theatre and on to the street — I was glad to get some fresh air again — and I lost count of how many times he thanked me. All in all, it couldn't have gone any better.
We walked around some more and had dinner in a restaurant I'd booked, in Soho, when dinner time came. Then we walked back to Baker Street station, because the weather was good and we could just walk in silence, or semi silence, and hold hands. I was a lot quieter than usual, we both knew it, but thankfully he didn't say anything about it. He just let me be, and that was nice, given the atmosphere at home. When we got to the station he didn't seem to care about checking for the next train. He just pulled me to the side, and hugged and kissed me for a long time. It was kind of silly, seeing how we were going to see each other again the following day — and he was staying with me in the hotel room — but it would be our last day, and… yeah, we needed all the time together we could get.
I didn't sleep much that night, and I was sort of on autopilot all morning. Nothing seemed real — the apartment certainly didn't feel like our apartment anymore. Mom went to the nearest coffee shop to get us coffee and pastries, but I couldn't stomach any food so I just had coffee.
The plan — well, Dad's plan… — was to leave the apartment mid-to-late morning and take a taxi to St Pancras to leave our bags at the hotel until we could check in later. But fuck that, I'd talked to Mom a couple of days before and she'd agreed they'd take my suitcase for me and I'd spend the day with Michael instead. She'd suggested we could all have dinner together in the evening, but again there was no way that was going to happen. She must have been worried I was going to run away, and I can totally understand that, because the temptation was strong. But we both knew I wasn't going to, so she could give me some leeway on my last day.
I left well before the taxi arrived, and made my way to Regent's Park. Michael hadn't been there since he was much younger, and despite living right next to it I hadn't been either for a few months. I got there first and sat myself on the first bench I could find, before messaging Michael to tell him where to find me. When he joined me, I tried not to let my eyes linger on the messenger bag he was carrying, or think about what it meant.
After that, everything went by so quickly, I honestly don't remember it too well. We walked around Regents Park, got something to eat — I was a little surprised I managed to eat anything — pushed on to Primrose Hill, and then went South to Hyde Park. I didn't want to stand still, I had to keep moving, and thankfully he seemed happy to follow without asking any questions. We had a small dinner, walked around a bit more, and ended up going back to the hotel by bus.
I got the key to my room from reception after showing them my passport, and when we got to our floor I went straight to my parents' room.
Mom opened a few seconds after I knocked. "Hi sweetie," she said with a smile.
"I'm just checking in, so you can be sure I haven't run away…"
"You didn't need to do that," she said right away, her smile faltering. I just shrugged and stood there silently, so she cleared her throat and went on. "Check-out is before eleven tomorrow morning. We were thinking of going to the station early and go to one of the restaurants or coffee shops. The train leaves at—"
"Yeah, I know, we'll see you at Departures," I said abruptly, cutting her off for obvious reasons. "Don't worry, we won't open the minibar, all I'll have to do tomorrow is hand over the key. We'll be on time."
Her smile disappeared altogether. "All right, we'll see you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, sweetie."
"Goodnight, Isabelle. See you tomorrow."
She managed a small smile for him, and closed the door when I stepped away.
Thankfully, the rooms weren't next to each other; ours was on the other side of the corridors, and a little further away from the elevators. My suitcase had been placed by the bed, and I shoved it aside when I crossed the room to draw the curtains. Everything felt so weird, so wrong, and for a bit I just stood where I was, facing the curtains, not knowing what to do.
"I think I'm gonna take a shower," I said at length, and when I turned around Michael was sitting on the bed, taking his shoes off.
"OK," he simply said, giving me one of his sweet smiles, and God I hated myself for thinking that way, but him being sweet was sort of the last thing I wanted.
Or, more likely, it was precisely what I wanted, but I knew I wouldn't be having it for much longer and so I was rejecting it. Being stupid. I couldn't make up my mind, so it was easier to escape and be by myself for a little while. Of course, part of me worried he'd ask to join me in the shower, and on any other day I would have said, yes, yes please, but I needed some time-out. So it was a relief when he didn't say anything and just placed his shoes neatly next to his bag.
I opened my suitcase, grabbed the wash-bag and PJs I'd made sure to pack last so they'd be easily accessible, went to the bathroom, and I felt like I was on autopilot again. The plan was to have a quick, cool shower, but once I was standing under the spray the Voice suddenly started again, and I froze. I hadn't heard it for several days and I really should have appreciated that fact more. It was the usual nonsense, about Michael, about us, except it sounded less and less like nonsense. I knew I couldn't let it get to me, not tonight, but I was beginning to wish I hadn't asked Michael to come stay with me. He should have gone home and then come back tomorrow morning. Or maybe stayed home…
No. I couldn't think that way.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, turned the water off, got out of the shower, brushed my teeth and put my pyjamas on. Usually I would have gone back to the bedroom and dressed there, but I didn't want to. I wished I could just get into bed and sleep, but I knew it wasn't going to happen easily — if at all — and I didn't know what to do. Without a word, I threw my clothes on the floor by my suitcase and flopped on the bed after turning the TV on. Michael went to the bathroom, and I don't know how long he was in there for; I just sat there the whole time, not moving and not-watching TV.
When he came out, he laid all his clothes out neatly before sitting on the bed and turning to me, and although I knew how horrible it was, I really wished he weren't there. Or at least… I don't know, I wished he'd just get in bed and go to sleep. But instead he crawled over to me and I knew precisely what he wanted, and I really hated myself for wishing he'd leave me alone. I couldn't do it; I couldn't allow him so close when…
And maybe he knew it too, but that didn't stop him. He straddled me even though I was being completely unresponsive, placed his hands on either side of my hips and moved to kiss me, but I turned my head to the side. That wasn't enough to stop him, so he twisted a bit and captured my lips anyway.
"Don't…" I whispered, placing a hand on his chest to stop him. He moved to kiss me again, but I pushed him back. "I can't."
He paused for a few seconds, looking down, and then let out a big sigh. "I should go home."
"That's not what I meant," I said, letting my hands go from his chest to his waist. "I just…"
"Josh, I'm not letting you go to Pa—"
"Don't say it. Please don't say it," I begged, placing a hand on his mouth to shut him up as I felt my heart racing.
I didn't want to hear those words. I knew it was stupid to pretend that it wasn't happening, but I had to.
He took my hand in his and slowly stroked it with his right thumb. "I… I understand why you're doing this, but if you won't even let me near you, then I shouldn't be here."
"But you don't want me here," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I do, I just… Can't I pretend for one more day?"
I knew how broken and pathetic I sounded. I was barely managing to hold the tears back and I could tell he was struggling too, so my heart soared when he gave a tiny nod before leaning over and resting his forehead against mine.
"I need to keep it together," I explained, grabbing both of his hands. "I don't want to fall apart now, you don't deserve that."
"Help me keep it together for one more day. Please," I begged, closing my eyes briefly. "Just… don't make this special. I just want it to be us, like always."
I felt him nod again. We stayed like that for a bit, and I just ignored the few tears I saw running down his cheeks just before he moved to kiss me again.
He started small, and kind of innocent, but it didn't take long for the kiss to gain heat, especially when he wrapped his arms around my neck and I wrapped mine around his waist to pull him right up against me. Before I knew it, he was gently grinding against me, and at one point I just grabbed his butt and rolled my hips against him, making both of us moan.
"Please…" he whispered, moving even closer.
"What do you want?"
"Anything… Anything you want," he said between kisses. "Just… aaah, please."
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and pulled a little. "How about we get rid of these…?"
He didn't need to be asked twice. He just about jumped off me and off the bed, and a few seconds later he'd removed all his clothes — and almost tripped and fallen flat on his face twice. Before climbing back on the bed, he reached into his bag and came back with everything we needed.
"I see you came prepared," I said, and somehow I managed an honest smirk.
"I was… hoping…"
"I'm glad you did. I mean I've got stuff in my suitcase too, but I'm not really sure where. I think we should put this on you," I added, grabbing a condom once he settled back on my lap. "We don't want to make a mess, do we?"
I was rewarded with a lovely blush slowly creeping down to his chest, and I couldn't help leaning over and kissing his collarbone. It turned into a slow exploration of the top part of his chest while I blindly grabbed for the lube and squirted a small amount in my right hand so I could stroke him. I kept it slow on purpose, using my left hand to steady him every time I could feel him trying to thrust into my fist more vigorously.
"Not yet," I teased after he moaned and then grunted when I stopped him. "Let's put it on you now," I added, using the towel he'd left on the side of the bed to wipe off the lube and finally opening the small packet.
I kept my eyes on his face as I rolled the condom on; his own eyes were closed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to slow down his breathing.
"Close?" I asked before kissing the tip of his nose.
He didn't even try to answer, he just bit his lip and nodded.
"OK, let's try something else, then."
I reached for the lube again, with my left hand, held it up and wriggled my fingers while raising an eyebrow. It only took a few seconds but he got my silent question, and his own eyebrows shot upwards. He nodded and started moving, clearly expecting me to want to change positions, but I stopped him.
"I'd like you to stay right here. Like we did with me in your room the other day, but I want to keep going until you come. Yes…?"
It looked like he'd lost the ability to speak, because he just nodded enthusiastically and kissed me again. He withdrew when he heard me undo the cap, and we both watched intensely as I coated my fingers generously, before locking eyes again as my hand slipped between his legs.
"OK?" I asked, and he nodded once more.
I went slow, the way I always did, and we kept staring at each other silently for a while, until I craned my neck towards him and he met me halfway. Suddenly we were much more focused on kissing again, and I lost my rhythm a bit but I kept going anyway, spurred on by the delicious little moans he couldn't hold back.
"Another?" I asked after some time because I always checked with him before moving to the next stage.
"Yes, yes please."
I glanced down for a second after he'd taken a second finger in, and realised that he was probably just as excited as when I'd put the condom on him.
"Look at that… You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Yes. Oh God, yes. More… please…"
"You think you can take another one?"
"Yes," he moaned, tucking his chin against his chest to try to hide his face from me.
"Hey now, don't do that," I teased, stroking his cheek with my free hand. "Let me see your face."
"C'mon, I want to see that handsome face of yours. Sit up straight again for me and I'll give you what you want, OK?"
He let out something halfway between a sigh and a moan and looked up again, but he kept his eyes closed. I chuckled when I saw just how far gone he was, with his flushed face and damp hair.
"Good boy… I'm going to use more lube," I said, moving his hair away from his face with my left hand. "OK?"
Again, all I got was a quick nod so I decided to put him out of his misery. I withdrew my fingers gently, added lube as promised, and went back to work. The moan he let out was considerably more intense than before, and he even arched his back and threw his head back, giving me the loveliest view.
"You're loving this."
"I… yes. Oh God. Josh, please…"
I rested my left hand on his neck, letting it trail down slowly, very slowly.
"You're so beautiful like this. I wish you could see yourself."
He bit his lip, closed his eyes once more and shook his head.
"I could probably keep you on the edge for some time. I'd be happy to. Would you like me to? We haven't tried anything like that before."
That made him shake his head very vigorously, and I laughed.
"All right, all right. You've been good, let's finish this. Can you get the lube for me? My hands are a little… busy right now," I added with a wink even though he couldn't see it.
It took a few seconds, but he did reach for the bottle, and squirted a small amount into my left palm. I sat up a little and craned my neck, trying to reach for his lips while wrapping my hand around him and getting to work. When I did, he surged forward and pressed his lips against mine, wrapped his arms around my neck and pressed all of himself against me. It made things a little more difficult but I made it work anyway, and when he finally came he squeezed me so tight with his arms and his legs that I had a feeling he might actually leave marks in places. But I didn't mind; in fact I welcomed a reminder of this night.
But I wasn't done, in fact I hadn't even started… So once he'd calmed down again, I carefully disposed of the condom, kissed his forehead, and manoeuvred him so he was lying on his back, with his head towards the foot of the bed. Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I took off my own pyjamas, grabbed another condom and knelt back on the bed above him, waiting. When he lifted both hands and reached out towards me, I didn't keep him waiting any longer.
And if I barely slept afterwards, or even after we did it one more time in the middle of the night, and chose to watch him instead… well he didn't need to know about that, did he?
A/N: I know I've said it many times in the past and I've always disappointed, but I'm REALLY hoping to get the following chapter out soon. I already have a few pages written, mostly done reusing the old version of the chapter I wrote several years ago, and this new version is sooooo much better!