Nic and I met through a mutual friend who knew us both well enough to know we'd get along. They were the kind of butch who got me weak at the knees just to look at them -- tall, broad shouldered, strong jaw, the very definition of rugged.
Pretty soon into our conversation -- over drinks at the bar they worked at, with that sweet employee discount -- they told me that they worked out pretty often. I could've guessed just from looking at their muscular back and toned arms, hardly contained by a tight black t-shirt. Bartending worked up a lot of stress, they said, between rude patrons and rowdy drunks, and lifting weights was a good way to relieve it.
I was feeling cheeky, with a fresh haircut and a nice white shirt on, sleeves rolled up to my elbows. We were taking turns to buy rounds and I'd lost count of how many drinks I'd had, but they all went to my head. I let my hand drop onto their knee, fingers brushing up the black denim halfway up their thigh.
"What else do you do to get out your frustration?"
Keeping my gaze, they took another sip of their whisky. My heart thudded against my chest, and I started to worry that I'd gone too far, too fast, and ruined it. I took an awkward sip of my beer.
"Finish that," they said.
I almost spluttered out my mouthful of drink.
"What?" I said
"Finish your drink, then we'll go."
"Go where?"
They cocked an eyebrow at me as if to say, 'are you new around here?', and I mentally kicked myself for sounding so naΓ―ve. I took a last swig and pushed the bottle away from me, no longer caring if it was empty or full.
They knocked back the last of their whisky and breathed out hard through their mouth, feeling the fire, then pushed back their stool and stood up, pulling on a dark red jacket.
I had forgotten while we were sitting down, but now remembered, how tall Nic was, a solid few inches taller than me. I had to look up at them, even as I stood pulling my coat on too, following them out of the bar.
It was a short walk back to their place, and we hardly talked on the way, but that spark in my stomach had started to grow into a low, insistent heat. It was a cold night, and our breath became fog as we walked a little quicker than usual.
They unlocked the front door and led me up to their flat on the second floor. The moment the door had closed behind us, I felt their hands on my hips pushing me roughly up against it, their face dipping down close to mine.
"Can I?" they asked.
I leaned up to meet them, my lips brushing theirs. They returned the kiss eagerly, leaning into me, and my stomach flipped. Their fingers dug into the small of my back, thumbs strung through my belt loops. I ran my fingers up their neck and through their hair. Silver heat seared across my stomach, my groin, almost painful.
"I've wanted this since the minute you walked into that bar," they said gruffly. "Bedroom?"
I kissed them quickly once more before nodding. They took my hand and led me down their corridor to their bedroom, flicking on a standing lamp. Their bed was pushed lengthways against the wall, and I sat on the edge, suddenly shy.
"Listen," I started to say. They shut the door behind them and came over to me, legs either side of my knees, and cupped my face in their hands. I gazed up at them, feeling my cheeks turning pink. "I haven't done this for a while."
"Hmm?" They ran their thumbs along my jaw, sending tingles down my spine.
"I mean, not this this. Like..."
They leaned down and gave me a soft, slow kiss.
"Take your time, you can tell me."
"I always top. Usually." I confessed.
"Ah," they raised their eyebrows, looking down at me. God, their bone structure was literally perfect. Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, so beautiful and boyish. "And you're thinking I'm the same way?"
"Aren't you?" I couldn't imagine a boi like Nic taking rather than giving. I tried to picture it, someone else on top of them, fucking them, and just couldn't.
"I am, mostly. But we can take our time, and see how things go. I'll be gentle with you, okay?"
I nodded and turned my face up to be kissed again. They put a hand on my shoulder, easing me back onto the bed. I loved the feeling of their body moving above me, feeling their strength. I knew they could throw me down and pin me to the mattress if they wanted, and even as they kissed me gently, the thought of their roughness made me tingle.
Holding themself up with a hand planted above either of my shoulders, they straddled my hips with their knees and leaned into our kiss, nipping my lip playfully. I slid my hands under their t-shirt, feeling the warmth of their skin, the muscles in their back.
I turned my head to the side, leaving my neck bare and vulnerable, and they obligingly kissed their way down my jaw to my throat. My back arched slightly, involuntarily. I resisted it, not wanting to give away how badly I wanted them yet, but they caught on.
They ran a hand down the side of my body and let it rest on my hip. I reached up to touch their face, brushing my fingers across their cheek. They pulled away and looked at me.
"How do you want to do this?" they asked, muffled by my thumb resting on their lip.
"Maybe... Maybe if you touch me, without looking much?"
I felt shy articulating my desires. I wasn't used to being touched, feeling vulnerable. The thought of Nic seeing my body up close and personal felt... Well, genderbad, for want of a better word. But I did want them to touch me. I wanted it really badly.
They nodded slowly, thinking, then eased themself down to rest on their elbow, sliding the hand from my hip down to my thigh and squeezing it. They trailed their fingers side to side over me, so sensitive there it almost tickled. Getting closer and closer to where I was most sensitive of all, my stomach fluttered with nerves, or with longing, I couldn't tell.
Leaning back down to kiss and suck on my neck again, they quickly and carefully unbuttoned my jeans with one hand, and brushed a thumb beneath the waistband of my boxers. I bit my lip, hands useless at my sides.
They kissed my lips again, slipping their tongue almost imperceptibly into my mouth, and deftly slipped their fingers between my legs at the same time. My hips twitched as I tried to return the kiss, pressing my tongue against theirs as they found me embarrassingly wet.
"Oh, baby," they breathed.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the feeling of their fingers running up and down my slit, most intense when they brushed over my clit. It felt like I just got wetter and wetter as they touched me. They kissed me on the corner of my mouth, and I turned my face to kiss them properly, cupping the back of their head in my palm, easing into them.
They pressed their hand flat against me, palm pushing against my clit, fingertips resting over my hole. I ground my hips up to meet them, needing the friction, kissing growing sloppy.
"Do you want me inside?" they murmured?
"Yeah," I breathed.
Sweeping me up in another kiss, they eased their middle finger into me. My hips rolled up against them, adjusting to this new sensation. They slipped another finger in, so wet there was no resistance.
"It's a bit hard with your jeans," they said. "Can I take them off?"
I hesitated for a second, but nodded. They pushed themself up off of me and tugged at the waistband of my jeans, pulling them off of me, then shook them out and lay them neatly at the foot of the bed. Turning back to me, they swiftly pulled their t-shirt off over their head and dropped it in the same place, revealing for the first time a flat chest and two pink scars from top surgery.
"Oh, hello," I said stupidly, caught off guard. I pushed myself up on my elbows, sitting up again to look closer. They stood above me like before and kissed me again. "How long?"
"About eight months. You can touch if you want."
I traced a finger under one of the scars curiously, having never seen a post-op chest so intimately.
"You like it?" I asked.
"I love it."
I took in the sight of them, healing and so perfectly flat, I'd assumed they were wearing a binder. Experimentally, I touched the scar itself, and they didn't flinch.
"Me too," I said truthfully.
Cupping my jaw, they tilted my face up and kissed me, and I ran my hands down to hold their hips, their waist, pulling them closer. Their boxers rode a little higher than their jeans. I didn't know what I wanted. I just wanted them.
I lay back on the bed, head on the pillow this time, and they followed me, pressing their body against mine. I felt like a kid in my shirt and underwear, undoing a few buttons symbolically, then wrapping my arms around their neck.
They kissed me behind my ear, under my jaw, on my throat, inching their fingers back down between my legs. I could feel I'd soaked through my boxers. Their hand slipped inside them, running small circles around my clit.
I let out a muffled moan, so worked up it wasn't long until I felt close already. They found the part of my neck that makes me gasp and focused on it, kissing and sucking as my hips rolled up against their hand.
"That's it," they whispered in to my ear. "I've got you. Come for me?"
Their fingers pushed a little harder against my clit, keeping up a steady rhythm as they sucked on my neck so hard I knew they'd leave a mark. I liked the thought of that almost as much as I liked the feeling on their fingers on me, easing me towards the edge.