Writer to Writer

"Milo, you're here!" Naia charged up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, tipping some of her drink on the floor in the process. "I have exciting news! Come with me."

She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him away from the bottleneck at the front door. They weaved through the partygoers and into her bedroom where, upon shutting the door, a thick silence engulfed them.

"So... what's the exciting news?" he asked as she dug out her laptop.

"Sit, sit!" She gestured vaguely towards the bed. He perched himself on the edge, threading his fingers between one another. He was feeling quite warm - he still had his winter coat on. "Ohmigosh, I'm so excited. Look!" She plopped herself on the bed next to him and gestured at her laptop screen. "The first chapter - in all its glory. Wanna read? I want you to be the first to read it. I'll get you a drink."

Her manic energy surprised him. He was used to her being quiet - withdrawn, even. But now she was practically giddy, rocking back and forth on the bed as he looked at the laptop that she'd thrust onto his lap.

As Milo read her words, he realised that she'd never told him what the manuscript was actually about. He knew Naia well enough that he felt safe to assume that it was something historical or other-wordly, a measure of distance between herself and the world she created.

He was surprised, therefore, to read a love story. Naia's prose engulfed him, sprawling declarations of love and lust on every page. He could feel the heat continuing to rise, small beads of sweat accumulating on his neck, as he scrolled onwards. At some point, he finished his drink and Naia replaced his glass with a beer bottle. He drank deeply, the bubbles reinvigorating his already awakened senses.

There was a sex scene in here too. He was not expecting that. It was good. It was really good. He could feel the beer loosening his muscles now, except for his brain - which wrapped itself around this heated story. All the while, he could feel Naia's eyes burning into him.

He'd never seen this side of Naia before. She was usually unemotional and hard to read. He'd always wondered what she liked, what she yearned for. He used to think about it as he went to sleep. Whenever they pulled an all-nighter together for the university paper, his sleep-deprived mind would often wander to a place where, instead of crouching on the floor over a newspaper layout jigsaw, he would spread her on the floor and fuck her. Hard. He would give her carpet burns all over her back and her knees. She would dig her nails into his shoulders and leave little marks of where she had been.

So this work, these words, caught him off-guard. Even as his shoulders relaxed into the fuzz of alcohol, he could feel his hips and groin beginning to tighten. As he read about the characters in Naia's head fucking in a stable, he wanted to do the same to her. Although they were tucked away from the party, there were still people all around them. Just like these characters, they would need to be quiet - and their mandatory silence would spur them on as they fucked each other raw.

He reached the end. He looked over at Naia, her eyes still fixed on him as she cupped her glass with both hands. He could smell the sticky-sweet cocktail from here.

"What do you think? Do you like it? I know it's a bit rough and the character exposition is quite-"

His mouth was on hers before he knew what he was doing. He'd waited so long, hoping to catch a glimpse of her carnal side - and here it was, laid bare for him to read. Now that he knew, he couldn't un-know. He couldn't stop himself from wondering if she wanted to share more of that with him. She'd wanted him to be the first to read it, after all. Did she want this?

She kissed him back, her pineapple-tinted tongue stroking his. He swept the laptop aside brusquely with one hand and pulled her onto his lap, keen to eliminate any distance between them. She began grinding against him. He heard her breath catch in her throat as he grinded back. He couldn't believe his luck. He gripped both of her hips and pushed her harder on to him.

Realising he was sweating in his thick coat, he hurriedly pulled it off his arms - but he wanted more. He wanted to feel every inch of her skin on his, feel her sweat rub between them. He continued undressing himself, and she stood up and did the same, playing up to her new audience. Wow. She wasn't shy anymore.

She stared right into his eyes as she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor, the theatre curtain dropping to reveal everything he'd ever hoped for. He could feel his sweat, his blood, everything coursing through him. Topless now, he lunged for her and snaked his arms around her waist, kissing her deeply again. She fumbled with his belt buckle and helped take his jeans off, tossing them in a crumpled heap somewhere in the space where their friendship used to be.

They slowly sunk on to the floor together, limbs everywhere, and he unclasped her bra. He pulled his head back for a moment - partly to admire her, and partly to gauge the mood - and she kissed him again eagerly. He moved from her lips to her neck and began kissing every patch of skin he could find. Neck, collarbone, chest, nipple. He devoured every part of her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and they began grinding again, and he could feel the moisture between her thighs. He could feel it against his groin. Surely, she could feel how hard he was too. This excited him - at last, she knew how much he needed her.

He wanted to feel the wetness for himself, so he slipped one of his arms out from around her waist and slowly slid his hand past the waistband of her underwear. Fuck. Her warmth and her wetness coated his fingers as he began to feel for her clitoris, gently circling it with his index. She bucked her hips as if he'd touched a nerve - which, y'know, he had.

He moved his hand downwards and found her opening, and slowly slipped a finger inside. She began jerking her mound against the flat of his palm as he flexed his fingers inside her body. She buried her head in his neck, her hair splayed across his shoulder, and moaned into him. Dizzy with beer and disbelief, he let her take the lead, let her use his hand, his body, his soul, however she pleased. He wanted - more than anything - just to please her.

It didn't feel like this was actually happening to him. He looked down, a birds-eye view, seeing himself on Naia's bedroom floor in his boxers, holding this glorious, nearly-naked woman - the woman he'd forced himself not to love - on his lap as he finger-fucked her. She sat on his hand, rocking her hips back and forth, her breathing starting to get jagged. She lifted her head from his shoulder and moaned loudly into the air, calling upon any deity that would listen. He tried to shush her, remind her that there were people outside, but she kept climbing the decibel scale. He covered her mouth with his other hand - and upon being gagged, she came - hard - on his fingers.

Her entire body decompressed and she rested her full weight on him. With his fingers still inside her, he gently slicked his wet thumb against her clit, smiling slightly at her reactive twitches. They sat there for what could have been years, her form hugging his as they sat on the floor together, intertwined and almost naked. His erection stood between them like a boulder, and eventually, slowly, she turned her attention to it.

At first, Naia was gentle, tentative, teasing. She ran her fingers along the seams of his boxers, almost as if she wasn't sure how he'd respond. She slid her fingers along his waistband and he let out a throaty exhale. She traced the outline of his penis over his underwear with her nails, and then gripped him, suddenly, with her palm. She began rubbing his erection with a tenderness only Naia could pull off, and he stiffened further in her hand.

She caught his eye and, with a look of hunger on her face, reached into his boxers. The feeling of her warm hand stroking him sent his head into a tailspin, the delicate yet assertive pull of her grip sending shivers down his spine. Milo began moving his fingers inside her again, reciprocating her touch.

Despite the noise beyond her bedroom door, it was quiet between the two of them - the only sound exchanged was their heavy breathing. The fabric of his boxers rustled in the silence, gradually increasing in speed as she brought his orgasm closer.

He looked up at her. He cast his eyes over her flushed face - her lips slightly parted, her forehead beaded with sweat, her eyes watching him for a reaction. He held her gaze for an eternity, never wanting to stop.

And then, without breaking the silence, Naia shifted backwards and bowed her head downwards to his crotch. One hand still stroking him, she pulled his boxers down and parted her lips onto him. She slowly slid his penis into her mouth, his head touching the back of her throat. He groaned.

She held him in her mouth for many millennia, her tongue gently caressing the underside of his penis. He was trying to be considerate, but he couldn't help himself - he thrust forwards, deep into her throat, making her choke on his cock. The tightening of her gag reflex on his head made him see stars. She doubled-down, thick moisture trailing out of her mouth and onto his skin as she pulled him in and out past her lips, deep into her throat. She tightened the seal and sucked, again and again, and he felt himself shaking. He placed his hands behind him on the ground to try and steady himself, but it was no good. This wasn't how he wanted it to end. In fact, he never wanted it to end at all.

He pulled himself out and, guiding her chin upwards with his fingers, he kissed her deeply on her wet, sticky mouth. He ran his fingers through her hair, pulling on the strands at the base of her scalp so intensely that he was surprised he didn't hurt her. He pushed his body against hers and felt the cold metal of her belly piercing on his stomach.

Slowly, firmly, he pushed her body downwards onto the floor so that she lay on her back. He lifted both of her legs by the knees, slid off her thong, and looked down at her. She was now entirely naked, spread out in front of him. With her legs pinned back, he could see every part of her, every fold, every opening. He could see a trail of moisture beginning to run down past her folds and along her crack. He watched it drip downwards for a moment, curious. He wanted to taste it.

Milo looked up at her face, holding her gaze, as he bent downwards and ran his tongue all the way from her asshole to her clitoris. Still holding both of her legs, he felt them tremble a little. He did it again. More trembling. He did it once more, this time as slowly as he could manage. Naia bit her lip as his tongue passed over her clitoris, so he stayed there, licking her mound with steady precision. She tasted almost as sweet as that pineapple cocktail she'd been sipping on - and he lapped it up, wishing he could taste her forever. Her moans grew as he continued the repetitive motion, her breaths becoming short little gasps.

Becoming aware again that people might hear, Milo slowed his tongue movements to a stand-still. Frustrated, Naia thrust her hips forward, grinding her mound against his lips. He smirked and obliged briefly, kissing and sucking her clitoris before pulling away entirely.

"Condoms?" His voice was hoarse.

"Bedside table, top drawer."

Naia took hold of her legs to keep them pinned back as he rummaged through the drawer. He stared at her, and she started touching herself, never taking her eyes off him. She seemed to like being on display. Fuck.

Milo lowered himself back onto the rug, kneeling down in front of Naia. For the first time this evening, he felt nervous. He lent forward, his hair falling into his face, and kissed her again, tasting remnants of her cocktail and his sex in her mouth. Taking his shaft in his hand, he positioned it at her opening and looked at her. She smiled. He thrust forward.

He let her envelope him slowly, inch by inch, until he had entirely filled her - and then, for good measure, he thrust a little further. She gasped and tightened around him. He did this again and again, each time with the same slow deliberation. He wanted to keep making her gasp, to keep making her tighten around his erection. It felt damn good. But more than that, he wanted to take his time, to pretend that they had all the time in the world together, that this would never come to an end. He wanted to be inside her forever, feeling her moisture coat him and her body squeeze him. He loved her.

Naia dropped her legs slightly and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him further into her. For all of his intentions, he knew he couldn't hold on much longer. His love, lust, carnality - whatever the hell you wanted to call it - was too much. It overwhelmed him.

Knowing it was about to be over, and hoping this was just the beginning, Milo kissed her again and groaned into her mouth, thrusting every fibre of his being into her body. He fucked her hard for those last few moments, wondering if she would split in two - but on the contrary, she seemed to ravish it. She reached between her legs and rubbed herself furiously, perhaps trying to match the orgasm that they both knew was coming.

And then, he released. She tightened her legs around his waist and he felt her convulse around his shaft. He hoped she had orgasmed too - but in all honesty, he was so blinded by his own, he didn't really know.

Milo dropped his body on to her, gently kissing her neck as he tried to catch his breath. Naia cupped his chin and lifted his face to hers. He looked in her eyes, trying to discern what the hell she might be thinking, how she felt about what had just happened. Her face was impassive.

Hoping this wouldn't be the last time, Milo kissed her deeply, savouring the taste on his tongue.