by Trisky
I just keep giggling and my grin is so wide, it must look like I'd swallowed the canary whole without even stopping to chew. Maybe the feathers are tickling the back of my throat as I try to ingest it and they're causing this involuntary reaction.
"What the fuck is so funny?" No words, I have no words. I just try desperately to muffle the sound trying to escape from my throat. "Are you on something?" I shake my head back and forth, pressing my lips together, a tiny snort escaping my nostrils.
Really, what could possibly be funny about this situation? The fact that I almost blew my stack over a comic book of all things? Not particularly funny. The looks on all of our faces when he walked in the door? Okay, that was slightly amusing, but it can't possibly be the cause of my giggling fit or I would have burst out long before this moment.
"Come over here." He crooks his finger at me, expecting me to follow its lead, as he settles warily on a bar stool. And I would, only I can't seem to move my feet in any particular direction that leads towards him and giggle at the same time. It's one or the other and right now giggling is winning out. "You're gonna live to regret it, if you make me come over there and get you."
At that, I burst. My voice sings a loud, long chorus of laughter, my stomach aching from the pain of trying to breathe and my eyes tearing up from the effort to stop myself. It's a magnificent sound and it fills every corner of this large space, reverberating off the walls and echoing back in both of our ears. He gives up his last bastion of seriousness and joins my laughter with a puzzled half smile.
Now I'm sure my grin is so wide, I've grown a tail and I can lick my own ass at will, after a satisfying dinner of canary a la carte.
I stumble with unsteady steps towards him, silencing the sound, but my shoulders still try to steady the vibration of my diaphragm rocking up and down. He reaches a hand out to me, as if to stop me from falling over, but I resist and shrug it off me. Instead I push myself onto him, until I'm almost stretched across his languid frame, and I bury my face in his neck and I just keep laughing. I can feel him move his hands around my back awkwardly, unsure of whether to pull me off or hold me closer. The last time I was holding him up, he was trying not to throw up all over the place. See how much better this is, when you're sober? At the very least, cleaner. I want to tell him that, but there aren't any words. We don't discuss that night or the morning after. In fact, we don't discuss a lot of things. For a moment, that doesn't bother me. There will always be time for discussion. Moments like this just sort of come and go. You have to take them while you can get them.
There's nothing funny about this at all, but it's the greatest feeling I've had in a long time and words can't explain that, but my the trill of voice still can. I can feel his skin recoil from the odd sensation of my vibrating laughter on his throat.
But he doesn't pull away, he just lets me laugh myself into a quiet stupor and that's just the most amazing feeling ever. Better than any orgasm I've ever had, and that's saying a lot.
"Are you done having your nervous breakdown?" The voice in his adam's apple tickles my mouth when he speaks. I try to nod my head under his chin unsuccessfully. I don't want to move. This is exactly the way I want it to feel, like I've lost all of my good sense and it doesn't matter to me, or to him. I want him to revel in it and appreciate the stupidity of it all. I feel his hands travel up my spine to the back of my neck, and I know this moment is about to end... and that's okay. It never lasts more than a few fleeting breaths, but it's worth it when it comes. He pulls my head out from underneath his jaw and studies my face for the briefest of seconds, like he's considering putting it back there and joining me in laughing at nothing at all. Instead he blinks, and looks down the tip of my nose.
"Thank you." I pull back slightly, and he moves his arms from my neck, drops them casually at my waistband, playing with the elastic.
"For not having you committed?" He asks quietly, like he doesn't want the walls around him to hear and throw it back at us.
"Just thank you." I might have stopped laughing, but I won't stop smiling. He regards me with an almost imperceptible nod. If I looked long enough, I'm sure I could figure it all out. But I don't need to, I see what I have to when I look down and realize I'm standing between his legs, and he's crossed his feet behind him, unwilling to let me move.
"Do you want to tell me what that was really all about?" I feel his fingers graze my belly button and my stomach lurch backwards.
"You're a smart man, I'm sure you can figure it out."
His eyes are like liquid motion, swirling steadily in another direction. I don't have to figure that look out either. I know, I don't need to hear his words. He's got it all sorted out without any help from any of us. Besides I don't want to rehash that business. I just want to be right here, right now. "The only thing I intend to figure out right now is why I'm still in my suit and tie and you're in those ugly sweatpants."
Sometimes he just knows exactly what to say, and when to say it. "Because we haven't had our fight yet and we'd be totally distracted if we were naked," I admonish him with mock seriousness.
"Oh yes, the fight. Well, have at it." He grins, his gaze evil and enchanting. I swear I can see the blood of the poor little canary dribbling from his mouth.
"You're a shithead who totally ignored what I asked you to do."
"I know." He at least attempts to look half remorseful, in between grins.
"And you never ask my opinion about things."
"That's a terrible, selfish trait, just terrible. You really shouldn't waste your time with someone so thoughtless."
"You just do what you want to do and it really gets on my nerves."
"And given your obvious delicate nervous condition, that was a bad decision that I will, no doubt, eternally and profoundly regret." His words might be mocking, but his hands are all serious business, feeling their way down the front of my pants, palming my underwear clad sack in his hand.
"And you think you can solve everything by distracting me with sex." And if my eyes starting to roll into the back of my head are any indication, he's right.
"Which devalues and debases your intrinsic masculine need to assert yourself as my equal, independent of me. Have I missed anything?"
I stopped thinking rationally and stopped hearing anything at all, somewhere around 'debases' or thereabouts. "I was thinking more like, it gets me horny as hell and I can't think straight when I'm like that."
"So are we finished fighting? Do we get to the making up now?"
I want to give him a serious tongue lashing... scratch that, he'd enjoy that too much... I just want him to know that I'm serious, that I don't appreciate his decision making, but how the hell do I tell him that when he's just decided to throw everyone else out and stay here with me? God, sometimes he leaves me absolutely no choice or ground to stand on. Fuckhead. I won't forget the real point and his reaction tells me that he knows that. Sooner or later we will have this out. Just not this very minute because neither of us can concentrate long enough to do it now. Especially since he's started doing that curling thing with his fingertips at the base of my balls, I honestly wouldn't give a shit if he'd decided to sell me to a band of roving gypsies, just as long as he doesn't stop doing that. Just the thought of him is enough to soak my brain into intoxication.
I lean my face close to his, matching his vaguely obscene grin, tracing my thumbs on the outline of his jaw and I kiss his mouth like I've never had the pleasure before. It all feels new, though I've felt his hands a thousand times and kissed him countless more. I want to close my eyes, but they're trained on automatic open, watching the globes of his eyes travel back and forth between closed lids, as if he's searching in the darkness underneath them, trying to bring up the picture of what our mouths entwined must look like in his mind. I wish he could see what I'm seeing, because it's a sight I've missed for too long. I like to watch him kiss sometimes, he doesn't know that, but I do. His mouth is relaxed, his eyes always start out pensive, darting back and forth, but they relax as my tongue delves deeper and he can let himself go. I could probably kiss him for hours, but I can feel the tightness in his muscles and I know he won't last long in this position, supporting me. I don't want him to support me, he's got enough tension.
I pull away from his mouth and his lips follow mine unconsciously, not ready for us to end just yet.
"How about a massage?" I offer. His eyes alight in appreciative surprise. I just have this sudden urge to relax his entire body. I know... I don't know how, but I just know that for all his bluster and all of his attempts at diffusing so many situations at once, that he's wound up like a tight fist, spoiling for a place to land. He doesn't have to say it, I just know it. I can feel it, in my hands.
"How about we get to the naked part first?"
I roll my eyes and step out of his legs, dragging him out of the stool with both hands. "You can get as naked as you want. I'm pretty comfortable."
"You're just scared you'll accidentally slip yourself into the wrong pocket." He tugs his tie and shirt off, kicking his shoes to the side as he walks towards the bed, saving the best for last.
"Yeah, your ear is kind of small. I don't want to cause any permanent damage."
He looks askance at me over his shoulder, making a show of dragging his pants and underwear down slowly and bending over, flexing his ass to adjust the pillows until they fit to his liking, before he lies on the bed and waits to be serviced. Like he'd ever let me do that on a regular basis. He's right, if I took my pants off now, the only knot I'd be working out would be the one buried up his ass. I take my shirt off instead.
I climb onto his back and start with his shoulders, kneading and rubbing the skin and muscle at my fingertips. He lays with his head to the side, eyes closed, lips almost pouting. For a minute, he looks like he might have known what it was to be innocent once, many, many centuries ago. His shoulders seem to carry the burden of every sin he's committed since then, they're so tense and thick in my hands. His muffled sighs tell me he's enjoying his treatment and that makes the smile creep back onto my face.
"You're right. I like the way the pants feel on my back," he mumbles half to me, half to the pillow under his mouth.
"I'm always right." I pinch the skin of his spine gently. "So what do I get for being so understanding and giving and so... *so* right all the time?"
"You get me not bending your cock into a pretzel for being such an arrogant little shit."
"You can do better than that," I use my hands to ease the tension and the dulcet tones of my voice to open the door without ruining the mood. "If I'm willing to take the air conditioner without so much as an argument, for now..." I emphasize the point by jutting my knuckle right into his bone, "then I should at least get a little something in return."
"Oh that's fucking priceless," his back jerks with a slight laugh. "I buy you an air conditioner so you don't drop dead from heatstroke and I'm the one who owes you something? I see they haven't taught you the concept of fair trade at that fine institution you call a place for higher learning."
I work my way to his lower back, digging my thumbs into his joints and around the discs of his spine. He feels like he's unspooling in my hands. "I'd say this is a pretty fair trade. Besides, I don't give a shit about the air conditioner. You *know* it's not about the air conditioner."
We both pause in silence. There really aren't very many words that are necessary in life, just an occasional one here or there. "What do you want?"
I bend and lower a kiss on the spot I just massaged. "I want a date and a sleepover at my place."
He considers the offer briefly. "I'll give you a sleepover."
"Nope. It's gotta be both."
"I suppose I'd be the one paying for this little excursion?" And sometimes you just say the wrong words to avoid saying what you really ought to be saying.
Of course he probably believes that he'd be paying for the rest of his life, if he gave in at the moment, but I don't let it stop me. I'm way too close. My voice has failed me too often, I won't squander the one chance I have, when he's a totally captive audience. "No I asked, I'll pay. Just don't expect anything fancy."
"How about I save you some money? Dinner and a sleepover."
"A dinner *date* and a sleepover." It's just important to me, okay? It just is.
"What the hell difference does it make what we call it?"
Every bit and none at all.
"Because I've never been on an actual date." Surely, when he was innocent for half a minute once upon a time, even he wanted that much. Now is his chance to have it. I try to impress that with my hands on the back of his thighs. "The closest I came was taking Daphne to the prom and look how that turned out."
And sometimes you just say the wrong thing altogether.
"A dinner date and a sleepover, don't make me regret it." I stretch out across his back, discarding my sweatpants along the way, while trying to keep the infectious giggle rising in my throat to an absolute minimum. "I'm *not* letting you fuck me."
I clamp my teeth onto his ear, trying to get him to reconsider. I feel like an eager pony waiting to run the Kentucky Derby, but he's the one with the whip, and when he rolls me over onto my back, practically crushing me under his weight, I see my hopes for the winner's circle fade right in front of me. "Why not?" I ask weakly, feeling his ass pin my semi-hard cock to my stomach and it's not a pleasurable feeling.
"Because that's not what I'm in the mood for. I just want to fuck the shit out of you." No questions, no expectations otherwise. Simple fact.
He finally relents and pushes himself off of me.
"Can I at least be on top?" I try to bargain, to no avail.
He doesn't say a word, just slithers over me, until his knees are fastened on either side of me and his hands grip mine and hold them steady near my head. I don't care if I'm on top, bottom, sideways or upside down when I look up at his face and see the serious business of one disgustingly beautiful, fucking horny man waiting for me to shut up. I don't even attempt to open my mouth again.
His hands massage my wrists and his body motions along my chest sliding his way towards my mouth. He teases me with his tongue and pulls back away from me, repeating this motion over and over, slipping a little deeper into the kiss each time. He doesn't close his eyes, he just watches, fixing his gaze on my steady focus. Were it not for the slight friction of his body rubbing against mine, I wouldn't even know he was moving above me, his movements are so slick. I don't even feel his hands release my wrists, they feel held captive in their position by some imaginary restraint. It's the cool feeling of his thumb drenched in lubricant at my ass that jolts me out of my meditation. There's something so calming about his motions, something so assured and possessed. I feel the tip of his latex covered cock brush my ass and just as I'm about to settle into place, closing my eyes and waiting, he jerks my thighs so quickly and steadily towards his cock, impaling me on him so unexpectedly and forcefully I let out a moan louder than any canary has ever sung. He's unkind and patient, unyielding and focused, thoughtless and thoughtful as he pulls me onto him and shrugs me off over and over, his ass barely moving an inch. I'm not sure who's doing the fucking anymore, I just know I can no longer see straight. The vision in front of me is blurred with a mix of sweat rolling off my forehead and condensation forming on my eyelashes. It hurts a little, but mostly it feels like an empty space I didn't know needed to be filled so thoroughly, as he expands and engorges my ass with every stroke.
When he shoots, his body shudders and his voice stutters hot breath on my neck, as he collapses on my aching cock. That brief touch is enough to make me explode underneath him.
I feel his forehead undulate briefly from the effort, before it settles, sated and satisfied underneath my chin, and his thighs collapse like jelly on my legs.
I don't let out a sound. I've heard it all.