*The characters written are over 18. Story features light BDSM.*
She realized now, now that their bodies were mere inches from each other, that he already knew all her kinks. That, under the guise of friendly banter, she had spilled each and every one of them in a series of coffee shop meet-ups meant for catching up since the distance-induced hiatus of their friendship. And somewhere within those long talks she had offered to give him a place to stay if he ever visited her city. And sometime recently, he had called to take her up on her offer and brought a ziploc bag of pre-rolled joints to thank her for it.
Now, in her small studio apartment, they were laying on her bed with red eyes and only the light of a lamp to illuminate them. She had smoked the joint, inhaling deep into her lungs, with the knowledge that, at some point in the high, she would be unbearably horny. She knew that weed had the same effect on him. He was saying something but her memory was becoming foggy. She focused on his moving lips, trying to keep the words in her mind for long enough to derive some meaning. He had stopped moving them and, by the time she realized, she had been staring at his lips for a moment too long. Enough to notice their soft ridges and inviting curves. She looked up at his eyes and found them focused on hers, deep and searching. He said her name like it was a question.
"What?" she said in a whispered response, her voice giggling a little. It seemed so silly, the way he said her name like it was important.
She felt his fingers on her arm, tracing the length of it. She fought to keep her breath still as she stared into his eyes which shifted their gaze to her hand. He said her name again, this time like a statement.
"I have a confession," he said slowly, fingertips reaching her elbow and turning back around to her wrist, "I've liked you ever since we met up this summer. I liked you before that too, but you were moving on to new things and I didn't want to hold you back."
His fingers curled in a little, brushing against her arm more lightly, as if they realized what they were doing and weren't sure whether to continue.
"But I had to say something now. If you don't feel the same way, I'll go sleep on the couch and never bring it up again. But I desperately want you to feel the same way."
His hand paused at her collarbone, somehow it had made its way up to it, and his gaze finally moved back to hers. His forehead crinkled just barely, but that small change was all it took to make him look like the world was ending and she was at the center of it. And that was all it took to make butterflies flit up her thighs and through her stomach. It was all it took for her to bring her lips to his in a slow sensual kiss, the way she had practiced in her imagination on lonely nights.
"Of course I feel the same way," she whispered in the pause between one kiss ending and the other beginning.
"Thank fucking god," he said, closing his hand around her neck and pulling her towards him again. This time, they kissed with the passionate, aggression-filled relief at having someone after balancing on the brink of losing them. With the high, each kiss felt eternal. She lost herself in sensations: his lips on hers, his hand on her neck, the soft sheets brushing against her arms, and the feeling of a warm glow up her thighs, in her stomach, and between her legs. Her hands found their way down his arms to the edge of his hoodie. Under it, she found the warm skin of his back.
The kisses stopped coming. She only realized why when she opened her eyes to see him pull the hoodie off and then lean down to do the same with her shirt. She was so glad the sober version of her had chosen to skip on the bra. She wanted to pull off her pants too but he was straddling her hips now, pinning her in place. She pulled on the waist of his pants instead, trying to convey what she was finding hard to do in words.
"Patience," he said with a smirk, staring at her naked torso as if imagining all the things he could do to it. She found herself smiling too. He looked so beautiful, sitting on top of her in the low light with that mischievous look on his face. His hands started underneath her belly button, and grazed upwards until they cupped around her breasts.
"You have beautiful tits," he said before pinching each nipple, sending a wave of pleasure down to her clit. She gasped, arching her spine upward. He kept his grip firm for a few seconds more before releasing them.
"Oh my god," she managed to whisper.
He leaned down to her neck and kissed it, slowly. He continued, kissing from her collarbone to her jawline in slow, wet kisses as his hand cycled from nipple to nipple, pinching and pulling and releasing. She heard her voice quietly moaning as if from eons away.
"You like that?" he said, his voice raspy.
"You fucking tease,"
"I'm doing it just the way you like it," he said, his lips near to her ear, leaving her neck cold with their absence, "and you love to be teased, my little brat."
"I'd love to be fucked even more," she said, her hands sliding desperately against the fabric covering his thighs. He laughed in the quiet, mysterious way that made her heart flutter.
"And yet it's so fun to watch you be the desperate one for a change," he said. Suddenly, he pinched her nipples... hard.
"Ask politely," he said.
She hesitated, wanting to follow instructions and yet feeling humiliated to do so. She was finding it hard to concentrate on her words but his grip on her nipples stayed firm and they were starting to ache.
"Please... fuck me." she said.
