Breaing Boundaries

It's the end of the first day of our work conference -- interesting but not nowhere near as interesting as how our flirting and teasing seems to have a tension to it that has not been there before. At times you try to convince yourself that the tension is only because you will be part of a panel discussion tomorrow, but it is hard keep that pretense when our legs are pressed together in the theatre seats or when even our hands brush up against each other more often than could be explained by chance while we're walking between sessions.

Despite the continual low-grade teasing and how close to each other we are standing in the hallway of the hotel after we have gotten out of the lift, you have to decline my suggestion that we grab dinner together. Yes, it's a perfect excuse to tease each other further -- and to indulge in a couple of delicious steaks, a bottle of wine and maybe some shots of limoncello, but you know that you need to prepare more than you have for tomorrow's session. Your stomach sink as my smile fades, then I close my eyes, take a quick breath, and agree that: "of course you are right" with a smirk at our usual tease about you being right and ask if I can bring you something to eat or be a sounding board or if there is any other way I can help.

"Not right now, but I'll hold you to dinner tomorrow night?" you suggest. Quickly rewarded by the way my face lights up at getting to spend time with you tomorrow night as you unwind.

"Of course -- good opportunity to celebrate. But in that case, I'd better let you get to it -- just don't forget I'm available anytime tonight if you want to test stuff out or if you need to give your brain a break."

You smile and nod, immediately regretting your decision while also feeling proud of yourself for putting your preparation first. You scan your keycard and enter your room, pulling your suitcase behind you. The room is nice but nothing special -- that interesting mix of warm and sterile that modern day corporate hotels seem to strive for. Settling yourself in at the small desk with your laptop and water bottle, you get down to work.

Hours go by remarkably quickly as you tweak your planned comments and your responses to expected questions to take into account some of the new ideas from during the day. Room service comes and goes without much of an impression, same as the overpriced half sized bottle of wine in the hotel fridge. You can't help but think as you pour the last of the bottle into your glass that the whole experience is a poor second place compared to a nice steak dinner with good wine and a side order of flirting.

At last, you realise you have reached the end of what you need to revise. Checking the clock, you see it is 9:30 and you can relax for the rest of the evening. You briefly consider something else from the minibar but decide on a shower instead. For long minutes you relax in the hot spray, keeping your hair dry and working but failing to distract yourself from 'good idea fairies' that you consciously chose to stop listening to over a week ago. As you wash yourself down the thought pops unbidden into your head of my hands instead of yours. You briefly consider taking the opportunity for a little self-love but remember you only brought a normal lubricant instead of the one you would need for the shower and decide that if you're still pent up when you go to bed, you can worry about it then.

As you step out of the shower and start to towel yourself dry you hear your phone buzz. You wrap the towel around yourself and pick up your phone to see three texts from me, each stating: "Knock knock?". You smirk as you start to think of a response then suddenly start as you hear an actual knock on the door behind you, followed by another buzz on your phone. "Just got out of the shower!" you rapidly type and send.

"Perfect timing!" comes the text response barely two seconds later.

You shake your head as you smile but approach the door, at first positioning yourself to the side so you can lean your head over to the crack in the door then pausing for a moment as you realise this is a chance to not just repay the flirting and teasing but an opportunity to take a clear win. Looking down at yourself, you pull the towel down lower, exposing more than a very healthy amount of cleavage. You hear my knock at the door again and, before you can reconsider, you flip the latch and open it towards you, still hidden away behind the door.

The door opens and you can imagine that it just looks like an empty room to me. I take two steps inside, holding something in my hands before you slip behind me and bump the door with your hip to close it. I jump slightly and start to turn but you have already wrapped your arms around me from behind, pressing your still wet shoulders and upper chest into my shirt. "Got'cha!" you whisper into my ear, seeing me shake my head and raise a hand to my heart.

I turn around and you can tell the instant I have realized you are dressed only in a towel because my eyes go wide, and I involuntarily lick my lips as I take in the sight of you.

"H-hi" I stammer, caught off guard by my first ever sight of you out of work or casual clothes. You smirk competes with your blush.

"I thought I'd see if you were done and could celebrate or relax." I say, holding up a slim bottle of limoncello -- the drink we have often shared after a lunch or dinner together and one that often precedes even more intense teasing than we normally restrain ourselves to.

"Finished barely 15 minutes ago." You reply. You take the bottle from my hand as you go to step past me then feel me wrap my arms around you from behind, hugging up against you.

"Turn about is fair play isn't it lass?" I ask and you feel your blush explode as I run two fingers down the side of your face while my other arm wraps around your waist, teasing at where you have folded the towel in on itself. "By the way" I continue, "You look incredible."

You briefly consider leaning back to see who will blink first in this strangely erotic, teasing game of chicken but decide you are at a distinct disadvantage given you are only wearing a towel, and a towel that is intentionally revealing more than you would normally.

"Why don't you find a couple of glasses while I find something to wear?" You ask. "I did just get out of the shower you know." You add with a playful reproach and a smirk.

You hear me give a quick laugh as I let you go and you quickly make for the bathroom to finish drying off. As you enter the bathroom you remember that the only clothing you brought with you is the nightie you planned to sleep in​. You briefly consider asking me to leave so you can find something else but decide to take comfort in the fact that it isn't a set of HB lingerie even as you note how unlikely that is since it's not the sort of thing you're likely to slip into after a shower for a relaxing night in. You dry yourself quickly and slip into the nightie, enjoying as always how the light fabric feels caressing your skin, particularly your breasts as you move about the bathroom and look in the mirror.

You slip out of the bathroom to see me facing away from you, sipping limoncello from a lowball glass. I start to turn as I hear the bathroom door slide open and for the second time in one night, you see my eyes widen and my jaw start to slacken as I take in how you look. A giant smile creases my face unintentionally but you can see my eyebrow raise as well.

"I'd ask if I caught you at a bad time but we both know I'm too grateful for the sight to tempt fate like that", I say holding out a glass with an inch of cloudy liquid in it.

Over the course of the next hour we slip closer together. What starts as sitting side by side on the bed after we realise there is only one chair in the room progresses to leaning against each other, then gradually slipping down until we are both lying down, sipping away at our drinks and refilling them from the bottle I brought with us. As I pour the final drops into your glass you look down and realise that you are sprawled half-way over my chest, one strap of your nightie having slipped down such that you are giving me a fantastic view down your top as you raise up for me to fill your glass.

You blush and go to duck your head away to cover yourself but instead I catch your chin with my fingers and slowly bring my lips to yours. You have all the time in the world to pull away but you don't want to, having been curious about where this is going and teased for far too long. My lips press against yours ever so softly at first. A kiss, gentle as a whisper of silk, tasting of lemon and sugar and a hint of something else - something that you realise must be how I taste.

Even as the first gentle kiss fades, you feel your desire explode into being. The teasing of years driving your actions as much as a yearning to explore the taste. The reasons behind why we have never gotten together briefly flare in your mind but vanish almost immediately - an ice cube of logic dropping into a smouldering pan. For once, the timing is in our favour - we have no commitments to others to consider. The cares about proving colleagues right or the dangers of dating a colleague who is nominally a boss are utterly irrelevant in comparison to your desire to feel your lips on mine and my hands on your body. In the course of that moment, you know something has fundamentally changed. People have joked that we have been essentially dating for years, speculating on what our respective status as each other's work spouse might mean behind closed doors. To you, in this moment, the floodgates have opened and you feel your heart open to me even as you pull yourself fully on top on me, aided by my hands equally feverish to bring you close so we can kiss again.

Both our hands pull at the top of your nightie, stripping it off as your skin feels like it's catching on fire. I bury my lips into the crook of your neck as you pull it off your shoulders and throw it aside, your breasts bouncing free for a mere second before I have pulled you towards me to bury my face between your breasts. We hold each other for a moment that stretches to three seconds, then five, then ten. You can feel my cock twitching under you, pressed firmly against you through soft cotton panties. Despite, or in some ways because of the obvious proof of my physical desire, you feel a short, icy stab of fear that I'm going to ask you to stop - to say this is a mistake or that I want you only for your body.

I look up into your eyes, my hand resting on the back of your neck as I bring your lips to mine again. "Don't worry lass", I say as I break the kiss, somehow reading your mind although with how much time we have spent together maybe this shouldn't be a surprise.

"It took us years to get here but as long as you are willing, I have no intention of letting you go."

You feel your doubts and fears subside, almost like a physical thing - a reservoir with the damn opened. Suddenly you no longer need to think that I want you - you know it, inside yourself and out to your fingertips. It is in this moment, a moment of love and acceptance and attraction that you roll off of me, and pull down your panties, flinging them to the side to land who knows where, desperate to feel our bodies pressed against each other. I have not been idle during your realisation and response. Like your panties, my shirt, pants and boxers are off and flung somewhere in the semi-dark room.

As you press your body on top of mine again to reclaim my lips the heat coming off both our bodies is almost feverish. You pause me for a moment to grab a small bottle of lubricant from within your bedside table. Fortunately, it safely made the journey in your toiletries with no inspections and you squeeze a small amount onto your palm as I focus my kisses on your neck and collarbone. You reach between our bodies and grasp my cock, feeling its hot length slide in your palm even as you moan in response to my mouth latching onto your nipple. Three quick pumps and you are confident that between the lubricant and your own wetness, there is enough for us to proceed.

You reach down to my chin and softly but firmly break my mouth's connection to your breast. As you tilt my face upwards you, you can see a wide mix of emotions flit through my eyes. Confusion, lust, concern, and even love - certainly affection and attraction which only grow as I realise that you have lifted my lips so that you can press yours to mine. As our mouths open and tongues begin to tease each other you raise one hip to the side, reach between us and position me at your entrance.

"Are you sure about this?" You ask. "I don't know exactly what tomorrow is going to look like for us but it will definitely be different to the last five years."

I smile up at you. "I know... I can hardly wait."

Our lips crash together as you lower your hips, engulfing most of my cock in one motion that has us both groan through the kiss and my arms surge around you to hold you tight against me. "You feel amazing." I whisper in your ear as you resume control of our lovemaking - choosing the pace and the force with which we come together.

Between years of teasing and the burning feel of our bodies, it's hardly surprising that neither of us lasts long. Barely ten minutes in, you can feel your climax rapidly approaching and you shift your hips to grind down on me, forcing ever last bit of my cock into you and rubbing pleasurably against your walls. "I'm getting close." I whisper. "Me too" comes your instant reply.

"Do you want me to pull out?" You can tell that it's the last thing I want to do right now but equally that I will be happy to do so if it makes you happy. "I want you to cum in me." You whisper. Then, a moment later - "I want you to mark me on the inside." You blush and cringe even as you say it, shocked at yourself and wondering where that thought came from.

Even as you feel embarrassed, you note how I have begun to thrust up into you more rapidly and hungrily. Clearly I am a big fan of you talking dirty, or possibly the deeper sentiment behind your words. The additional friction combined with the emotional upheaval you feel brings you right to the edge of your orgasm, an orgasm that sparks within you as, through all the other sensations, you feel my cock swell and spurt within you. You moan out loud and, realising this is going to be a loud one, bring your upper arm up to your mouth and bite down to muffle yourself and, although you have never told anyone about it, to feel the delicious light burn of pain as you mark yourself with proof of your pleasure.

We come down slowly, your hips slow almost to a stop and you lay your upper body down on top of me again, our lips finding each other's and you are gratified to see that I still seem just as fascinated and keen to kiss you now as before. We lay together, exchanging gentle kisses but no words as our heart rates return to normal and our bodies cool down. Finally I break the silence: "That was amazing...I can't believe we waited so long."

You smile at me, it rapidly changing to a smirk, your eyes twinkling in the half light. "Admit I was right, years ago when I suggested we'd have chemistry but you were worried about what it would mean for us at work."

"You were right." I freely acknowledge - totally unable to disagree in the face of such definitive evidence. Somehow, hearing "you were right" feels not just better but sweeter than normal. Your first thought is that it must be because we are in the afterglow of sex or even just naked together but as you think on your feelings, you recognise that it is something else. It's the feeling of a lover - a partner - admitting that you are right. Not a fleeting one off, but something where you can count up the scoreboard over months and years.

We begin to get cleaned up and it's clear we are both thinking about what comes next. The lingering touches and longing glances as you pull your nightie on again give you both confidence and comfort. You know we both need to get to sleep - you even more than I since you have your session tomorrow when I seem to read your thoughts: "I think we need to get some sleep, we both have a big day tomorrow - but before anything else I want you to know that I love you more now than even before. I don't know exactly how we are going to make everything work, how we are going to tell people - I'm not worried about that. We can absolutely make it work and at the end of the day, we are the only two people in our relationship that we have to consider. Let's have a sleep in tomorrow and miss the morning sessions. We can have a nice cuddle, get breakfast and talk about what we want to do and then I can help you get ready for your presentation anyway you like."

"Okay" you murmur sleepily. Rolling over, you pull me into bed behind you, spooning you from behind with one hand around your stomach, holding you to me, content that, if everything isn't sorted out now, it is on the right track and no matter how tomorrow goes, it has a lot of potential.