Snippets of an affair ~ First Decision

[zahraowens]

Title: Snippets of an affair (3/?) ~ First Decision Author: zahra_owens Beta: iona_lewis Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 1229 Warnings: Beware of boy-loving, guy on guy, and what's more, they're cheating on their boyfriends. Also, in this chapter, less than perfect relationships. Disclaimer: Persons and events described here may, on the surface, seem familiar, but I don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Author's note: The POV may change throughout the story, so the 'I' from this chapter isn't the 'I' from the last two. I hope this still makes sense...

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It’s dark when I step outside the pub.

My head is still swimming. Who would have thought you’d be so willing? Who could have ever guessed that when I saw you standing there by the bar, a little lost and clearly not comfortable, you’d follow me away from the reception to shag in a pub toilet?

Christ, I don’t even know your name.

I slowly walk back to the reception hall and light a cigarette along the way. It stops my heart from racing and clears my head. I realise I’m walking slowly, hoping you’ll come out of the pub as well and walk back with me but you don’t. Can’t blame you I suppose. One-night-stands aren't meant to be continued and if they do it always becomes uncomfortable.

I don’t want to go home yet, so I saunter back into the reception room and join my old college mates. The drinks are free there and they rib me about the bet we made before I walked over and kissed you. Yes, you’re gay and no I didn’t find out if you were a bottom. The lie comes easily and I don’t know if I said it because I didn’t want to reveal the fact I’d just had sex or whether I was just not willing to take money so they can make fun of you.

*****

The following morning, my head is throbbing and my stomach is doing flip flops when I open my eyes. The room is way too bright, so I squeeze them shut again. This in itself is not entirely pain free and I wait until the throbbing becomes bearable. I hear him snoring next to me and I shove him with my elbow so he turns around and stops. It takes me a few moments to realise we didn’t close the curtains last night because I was blind drunk and he simply had to have his way with me.

He isn’t even supposed to be home. He’s on the Tokyo run and that means he’s always gone for four days and he’d only left that morning, so I was surprised to find him on the sofa when I stumbled in in the middle of the night. He said he’d traded with a colleague and that he’d have to leave the next morning so would I mind sucking him off since he’d have to go without for four days after that?

When has he ever gone without? I’ve heard him boast to his friends that he is a modern day sailor, with a piece of arse in every port, which in his case would be every major city with a large airport. I just happen to be his ‘regular piece of arse’ because I live at his official address. I’ve never harboured the illusion that he was faithful though. Hell, I even buy him condoms and slip them into his pilot’s bag in the hope that he remembers to use them. I think back to try to recall if he used one last night when he unceremoniously shoved his cock inside me without prepping me and then I think I remember him pulling it off before he came all over my arse.

Now he’s still in dreamland and I wish he'd get a move on and leave again.

I slowly get up from the bed, both because I don't want to wake him and because I don't want to chuck up the curry I had on the way home after the reception yesterday. By some divine luck, I make it to the bathroom and lean my outstretched hand against the tile, so I can pee without losing my balance. My bladder is so full it hurts and I contemplate sitting down to pee, but I know my morning wood wouldn't allow that, so I wait, trying to relax. Closing my eyes seems to help with the incessant throbbing in my head and I let out a quiet moan as I feel my bladder emptying itself.

"Christ, you're always ready aren't you. Come to think of it, that's what I like about you," I hear him say behind my back and I don't bother to open my eyes. I almost answer, "I'm not in the mood for you," but I know that it's no use and if I resist, we'll only struggle and he’ll get his way anyway, besides, sex is good for a hangover apparently.

"Don't move." He uses that voice he thinks sounds seductive, but it doesn't do it for me. Not any more. Not since he forgot that I'm more than a piece of arse, that I have feelings and preferences and that I'm not 'ready every single moment of the day'. I try to turn away but he puts his arm in my path. "Come on, love." I feel his hard cock rub against my entrance and it makes me nauseous again.

"Just wear a..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No glove, no love."

He sighs and I try to relax. He never lasts long, so I know that if I just let it happen, it will be over soon and he'll leave and I'll just.... I feel the sharp burn and grunt. Of course he thinks that it's because I'm enjoying it at least half as much as him, but the dirty talk that follows just makes my stomach churn. I swallow to prevent myself from vomiting and to my own surprise, I succeed.

"Fuck, you're close right? Tell me you're close?"

He pushes into me and it doesn't enter his head to check whether I'm hard, which I'm not, of course. Even my morning erection has waned, but he doesn’t notice as he comes with a low grunt.

We separate as if he just walked behind me in the bathroom and he steps into the shower, while I walk off in the direction of the bedroom. I flop down onto the bed, but get up again just as quickly. The sheets smell of him and I make a mental note to wash them so that at least I can sleep in my bed without being reminded of him tonight. I pull the throw rug around me and walk into living room, where I can curl up in the sofa and contact with him will be minimal until he leaves for four days. Four blissful days. Four days to decide whether I should just cut my losses and move out.

As I close my eyes, the images of last night come back to me. I've had sex twice since then, but I haven't come, not like last night. Not like when you opened up for me and I pushed inside you and you asked me, almost begged me to thrust harder, fuck you harder until you came and couldn't stop shouting, even though we were that close to getting caught.

I come, shaking from the force of my orgasm. The strength of the memory surprises even me as I wipe my hand on my stomach. I'm sticky and I need a shower, but I'm smiling as I think of you and bite my lower lip. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe some one-night-stands can take a repeat performance? I realise I want to meet you again and next time, I'll find out your name.

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