Snippets of an affair ~ First Tenderness

[zahraowens]

Title: Snippets of an affair (9/?) ~ First Tenderness Author: zahra_owens Beta: iona_lewis Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 3534 Warnings: Beware of boy-loving, guy on guy, and what's more, they're cheating on their boyfriends. 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 1: The POV may change throughout the story, so the 'I' from this chapter may not be the 'I' from the previous chapter

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I'm surprised at how much I enjoy the sheer domesticity of our unspoken arrangement.

Your barely furnished kitchen doesn't have anywhere for me to sit and the only bit of counter space you have is taken up by all the groceries we bought at the market. I don't want to spend a single moment without you though, so I stand around, watching you prepare our dinner. I know I get in the way every time you playfully swat me away whenever I stand in front of the cabinet you need to get a certain pot or utensil from, but as long as you seem amused, I'm not about to leave the kitchen.

"You're not much use to a cook are you?" you ask me with a wink.

"Never had to do much in a kitchen," I admit. I lean closer and look into the pot you're stirring in the hope of changing the subject, but you hand me the leaks and carrots and celery you've been cleaning and tell me to wash them in the sink.

"Does that mean mummy did all the cooking?"

I don't immediately react and pretend to be so concentrated on my vegetable washing that I didn't hear you. Then I feel you grab me from behind.

"Didn't mean to make you retreat. I know you prefer to stay a mystery to me," you say, not even a hint of accusation in your tone.

"We had a cook at home," I answer quietly. "But I haven't been home since I was sixteen." I feel your hand crawl underneath my t-shirt to caress my stomach and it makes me shiver. You must notice, because you retreat slightly, but I prevent you from leaving by covering your hand with mine. "There's a lot you don't know about me and I don't know if I can tell you everything."

"That's okay," you whisper in my ear. "You don't know everything about me either."

I'm grateful for the fact you don't push further and I tell myself that I can tell you more, but then the pot on the stove starts hissing and a burnt smell fills the kitchen. I turn around when I feel you move back quickly and step aside as you come closer with the pot, pushing it underneath the water that was still streaming out of the tap from washing the veggies and making it hiss loudly.

"Okay, I guess we'll need to start again," you laugh, grabbing another pot.

A few hours later we're both stuffed like Christmas turkeys after what was probably the best meal I have ever had. "I can't believe you made soup and potatoes and vegetables from scratch. Not to mention the best pork chops I've ever tasted."

"It's not that hard. You saw me make it," you reply matter-of-factly. "In fact you helped me make it!"

"Yeah, I'm an extraordinarily talented carrot washer," I quip, by no means serious.

You put your arm around me and pull me closer. "It was nice to be able to cook for someone again. Someone who appreciates it," you say quietly.

"He didn't appreciate your cooking?" I still can't bring myself to use his name, fearing your lover will become a part of what we have and I don't want that.

You shrug and seem to be lost in thought for a moment, then you recover. "Your man doesn't cook for you?"

I raise an eyebrow and snort. "You must be joking. Fly boys don't cook. They eat from trays with plastic cutlery." I hear you laugh behind me as I snuggle closer until I can lean back against your chest. You hug me closer and kiss my hair and although talking about my lover made me feel tense, the calmness emanating from you helps me to relax. I stare into the flames of the fire you lit while you were cooking and I realise that I stumbled upon quite the domestic god while cruising wedding receptions. If only I'd met you earlier.

"I could say the same, but I stopped living with regrets a long time ago," you say, and I realise I spoke those last words out loud.

I sit up straight, caught in the act and you turn towards me putting your hand on my thigh. "We can't change the past, only the future, even if it doesn't feel that way right now," you philosophise.

I nod and try to forget about my other life.

"Live here and now," you whisper and then you kiss me, a kiss that starts out soft and tender, but soon deepens as I crawl onto your lap and wrap myself around you. Then I remember you don't want sex and I pull away, retreating to my space on the couch.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I don't know." I sigh. I can't look you in the eye, because I'm embarrassed about my feelings of raw lust for you. "Actually, I do know. I'm a slut and I don't deserve you." I see you trying to add your own words but I don't let you, I need to rant and spill my own thoughts first. "I love what we did today. I've never done that with anyone who was more than a friend. I love that we spent time together doing the usual stuff a couple is supposed to do. I love that I'm more to you than a piece of arse. Frankly I'm amazed that someone, a great guy like you, would even consider spending time with me outside of the bedroom, because nobody's ever done that with me. Ever since I was sixteen, I've been everyone's fuck boy. Fuck'm hard and often and God forbid you actually strike up a conversation with him! People think I'm stupid and a pretty boy, but nobody can imagine that there's actually a brain behind those pretty, dark fuck-me-eyes. I'll admit, since I never managed to stay anywhere long enough to get a decent education, it isn't much of a brain, but I'm not stupid! I'm a person, with needs and wants and desires, but they never want to find out, oh no, because heaven forbid I might deny them that hole to fuck. But all I want is someone to make love to me, not fuck. Someone who cares if I get off as well. Someone who asks me what I want for a change. Someone who doesn't stick his cock inside me, only then to realise he's forgotten to prep me, or to use lube altogether or used a condom even. I want somebody to realise that sex is a two way thing and I know I sound like a whiny girl, but I'm fed up with guys taking me for granted."

I'm panting when I stop talking and I see you look at me intently. Your expression is unreadable and for a moment I expect you to laugh in my face.

Instead you take my hand and your look softens. "I don't think you're stupid. And I've never fucked you, so I don't think I fall into that category either. Plus I know there's more to you than just your fuck-boy image. You've made me see stars twice and that's probably the best sex I've had in the past...ten years probably. I'd love to pay you back for that with anything you'd like. You name it."

I don't know how to answer that, momentarily unsure whether you've just offered me money to sleep with you or whether your offer was a physical one. Doubt was obviously apparent on my face and you smile nervously. For a moment I wonder if I expressed some of my thoughts out loud again.

"What I meant was. I'd like to make love to you the way you deserve to be made love to, if you'll have me of course."

I look you in the eye and can tell you're dead serious. To my shame, I feel a tear run down my cheek and I extract my hand from yours to quickly wipe it. "Now I'm really acting like a girl."

"You're no girl. I don't like girls, in case you didn't know that already, " you say encouragingly. "No girl has ever fucked me like you did, I promise."

"So do you want me to fuck you again like that or are you ready to..." For some reason I hesitate to ask him to make love to me and to add to my shame, I feel myself flush.

"It's up to you. You make the decision and I promise I'll enjoy whatever you come up with."

"You don't know that," I can't help but say.

"Okay, I'll help." Your smile makes me a little worried, but you soon put that to rest. "Do you want to top or bottom?"

"Bottom," I answer, barely audibly. "If you want to top, that is."

"Oh I'll top," you answer quickly. "Fast or slow?"

"Slow," I answer, my confidence growing.

"Couch or mattress?"

I don't answer right away, instead I get up from the couch and slowly take my shirt off, giving you ample time to stare at my chest. As I throw it to the side, I suck in my stomach and show off the abs I work very hard on most days.

"Come here," you say, with a voice that's considerably lower than normal.

I move closer to you and as you look up to me, you stick your tongue out and lick my belly button. I can't stay serious, because it tickles and I break down laughing, hugging your head. I try to pull you down to the mattress, but you resist.

"Stay here for a moment."

You nuzzle my stomach and wrap an arm around my waist. I try to resist twitching under your soft caresses and tender kisses, but I barely succeed. This doesn't deter you though and slowly I relax. Your hand follows my treasure trail and dips below the band of my trousers. I accommodate you by unbuttoning them and you give me a wicked smile that makes me instantly hard. You don't waste time fishing my erection out of my boxers and as I remember you telling me you like to give head, I see it disappear into your hot mouth. Fuck, you have a skilled tongue. I continue resting my hands on your head, not to guide you, but to prevent myself from swaying too much. You in turn, gently coax me out of the lower half of my clothes until I'm standing in front of you naked as the day I was born. Usually I'm much more self-conscious about my nudity, but the way you worship my body, nuzzling my skin with your eyes closed, enjoying all of it, the feel and the scent, I forget to be shy. I'm rock hard, my cock practically flush with my body and it isn't until I see you remove your hand from your own trousers to reach under into the side of the sofa, that I realise you were touching yourself as well. You retrieve a small bottle of lube and some condoms from their hiding place and I smile. "Cheeky. When did you hide those there?"

You smile apologetically. "When I was starting the fire. I didn't want to have to stop in the middle in case something got started."

"Good thinking," I say, leaning down to gently kiss you. I take the opportunity to pull your t-shirt up, exposing your downy chest, but before I can reach for your nipple, your mouth has attached itself to my cock again. "You're going to make me come like this."

You nod, but continue to suck on my hard flesh and my body wants to thrust into your mouth, but I resist. Your hand has found its way to your own erection again, though.

"Show me.," I demand. "Show me what I'm doing to you."

You oblige slightly reluctantly, but I can tell you're fully hard as well.

"Fuck, I want to ride that," I utter.

You act shy and I'm sure that if it wasn't for the yellow light of the fireplace masking the colour of your cheeks, I'd see you blushing.

We separate for a moment, just enough time for you to scoot up so you can pull your pants down and for me to help you out of them, and then I straddle you and rub my groin against yours. This way I can kiss you passionately and let the fever cool a bit, so I don't feel like I'll come the next time you touch me.

"I want to ride you," I repeat.

"I think I should prep you first," you reply in between kisses.

I shake my head. "Years of being fucked at a moment's notice makes me very good at opening up, besides, if you prep me, I'll come on your fingers and I don't want that."

"Oh, I intend to make you come more than once tonight," you say confidently. "But you complained you were never prepped thoroughly, so I thought I'd show you I wasn't like him."

"You are so far removed from him, there's no way I'll make a mistake." I rub our cocks together and then just yours so I can roll the condom over it. "For one, you're a much bigger boy than he is," I whisper.

"All the more reason to prepare you thoroughly," you answer, your voice by now slightly rough.

I shake my head and liberally coat your erection with lube, then reach between my legs to wipe my slippery fingers around my entrance. "Watch this." Although you're much bigger than my pilot-lover, I'm randy enough to take you like this, as long as I can set the tempo. Most men are easily impressed and totally fascinated by the ease with which I can sink down on them, but you look at me with a mix of worry and endearment on your face, making eye contact and seemingly totally ignoring the sight of us coupling. My progress is slow, both because I need time to adjust to the considerable stretch and because I want to savour the feeling of being filled by you. Your carefully controlled breathing and the tenseness of your stomach muscles betray how hard it is for you to stay still, but because I can't speak to thank you right now, I use the palm of my hand to caress your skin, making my thumb stroke over your lips. You suck it into your mouth and emulate what you did to my cock earlier. This, combined with the look of lust in your eyes, sends the blood flowing to my groin. As I completely impale myself, I come, splattering my release over your stomach.

When I try to ride you to bring you off as well, you wrap your arms around me and stop my movements. "Shhhh, it's okay, just enjoy the feeling. We have time. No need to rush."

I'm happy to hear that there's not a hint of disappointment in your voice and I relax in your arms. We stay connected like that until my heart rate settles and you scoot us closer to the edge of the couch.

"Hold on, I'm going to lay you down on the mattress."

I cling to you, realising we're both sticky, but unwilling to separate to clean it up. I'm also very aware that you're still inside of me and I'm not ready to give that up just yet. I've never considered myself the type of guy to enjoy the tenderness with which you treat me, but then again, I'm just not used to it. I do enjoy the feeling, although the way you look at me as if I'm the only thing in your life worth looking at, makes me blush.

You wipe the hair from my face and kiss me, gradually letting me feel your body weight and then you start moving. Slow and shallow thrusts at first, then you keep to the same easygoing rhythm, but you almost pull out completely before slowly pushing in again. I feel myself hardening again, but the almost teasingly slow rhythm is driving me crazy so I pull my knees up, which changes the angle of your thrusts. This time, when you push in, I veer up as you nick my sweet spot. I see you smile proudly as you try to repeat the same action and again, my body involuntarily reacts. My heart starts racing as we find a rhythm that feels good for both of us, moving in sync, moving as one, and my only thought is I never want this to end. You speed up though, no doubt answering your body's call for more stimulation and the moans you produce seem to come from deep inside your belly. I'm not silent either, we're both beyond talking and we both know that we won't last much longer. I let my hands run along your sides and down to your buttocks and I squeeze them, aiding your escalating rhythm, urging you on to go faster, thrust harder. Although the grinding of our bodies provides my neglected cock with friction, this isn't enough for a second orgasm so close after the first. Somehow, you seem to sense this as I feel you shift slightly, just enough to be able to insert your hand between our bellies. Your rough palm feels amazing on my engorged cock and it only takes you a few tugs and thrusts to send me over, once more adding my release to the drying stickiness already there. Through my haze I feel you thrust erratically a few more times, before you groan loudly and then collapse on top of me.

"Don't move," I rasp, my arms still wrapped firmly around your relaxing frame. "Please, stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere, Angel," you answer softly, still trying to catch your breath.

"I'm not used to having a lover in my arms... afterwards," I confess.

You kiss me lovingly and I feel the wetness of your cheek as you brush it over mine. Although this worries me slightly, I feel uncomfortable asking you what's wrong. Although I have no reason to think this, I'm not ready to hear you say you regret what we did.

You roll off of me and discard the condom, so I get up to get a wash cloth from the downstairs bathroom. When I return I stop in the shadows, admiring the view of you lying on the mattress naked, one arm over your head, one knees slightly bent, the light of the fire you rekindled playing over your skin. I wish I could tell you I was just going to go away to pick up some of my personal stuff and then I'd be back to stay, but I can't.

We don't talk as I hand you the damp cloth and watch you clean yourself up. Then you pull me into your arms again and I try to dispel my dark thoughts.

************

It's still dark outside when I wake and I'm grateful for that. I know I have to leave soon after breakfast and I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could lie here with you every night from now on, your lean, sinewy frame so close to me I can smell your after-shave-free scent with every breath I take. It's comfortably warm under the duvet we share, but I scoot a little closer anyway, lining up my body with yours, gently pushing my chest against your curved back. You take a deep breath in, but then settle down again. I don't mean to wake you up, I just want to feel close to you.

We had a lovely day yesterday, spending it in the city picking out furniture for this house that I already call home, although we've never discussed anything about me moving in. I don't dare to bring up the subject, since we live so much in the now and never talk about a future, least of all together. It only now hits me that we just started talking about ourselves two days ago and I still don't know much about you. I only know that I feel good when I'm with you and that there's definitely more to you and I than really good sex. Until last night we'd only had sex twice and both of those times in a public toilet, still it was no surprise to find you are a tender and unselfish lover, a gentle and calm man, who can be passionate as well.

You wake up and push yourself closer to me, so I hug you tight.

"I need to go," I whisper, almost hoping you won't hear me.

"What time is it?" you ask sleepily.

"Early," I answer. "Still dark."

"Will you be back?" you ask after a long moment of silence.

"Yes," I answer, trying to sound confident at hearing that you want me to return. "I promise I'll be back in a few days."

For a moment, you reach back to pull me closer and then reluctantly let me go.

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