Lawful Discretion Pt. 02

I shifted under the covers, seeing the grey light of dawn beyond the slit of my eyelids, and yawned. I wanted to sink back into a doze, but the sensation of my bladder approaching critical was enough to temporarily rouse me, long enough to slouch to the toilet and back.

I glanced over at the slumbering figure next to me, eyes closed, face calm and composed... god, he didn't even snore, his deep, steady breathing passing silently. I sat up for a moment, admiring him, one arm thrown up to rest above his head on the pillow, the other flung over his tough, weathered body. He looked less like a professor and more like some semi-retired prizefighter at rest.

I slid gingerly to the floor, picking up my cellphone from my bedside table. I slipped on a robe, then padded out to the hall, trying not to let my bedroom door creak, and into the bathroom. First I sank onto the toilet, immediately relieving myself as I indulged in another yawn and checked my phone. 6:27, not terrible, but earlier than I'd usually rise. Nothing new in my messages or mail. I flicked down through an app lazily for a bit, watching the cat videos the algorithm by now knew me a sucker for, until I felt like my work below was done. I flushed and went to wash up, eyeing myself in the mirror. I couldn't help but smile a bit bashfully. My mascara was a mess. My lipstick was gone but for the odd smear. A thin, white streak of Stephen's contribution had dried along my left cheek. I sighed deeply, leaning on the sink as I recalled the evening. Our dinner, the rising anticipation as we returned to my apartment, and then...

I exhaled shakily, feeling my knees shake and my crotch tremble, while a small glow pulsed at the bottom of my belly. I shook my head and pushed myself to my feet, then cleaned myself up.

When I returned to the room, Stephen was sitting up in bed, the sheets over his lower body, as he perused his own phone. He yawned, stretching, and turned to give me a sleepy-eyed smile.

"Morning, you."

"Morning yourself. How'd you sleep?"

Stephen stretched again, arching his neck and grunting. "Like a baby. Thanks for putting up with me for the night."

I chuckled at that, and fought the urge to leap back under the sheets with him. I gestured towards the next room. "I um, I put out a new toothbrush if you wanted... and the wicker cabinet in there has clean towels and washcloths."

Stephen smiled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll take the toothbrush, but I don't want to waste all your hot water. I'll be stopping home before work to change, anyways." He paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the floor. "Er, Jo..."

"Yep?"

"Where... have you seen my pants?"

I snorted, shaking my head slowly. "Dude, really? You're getting shy now?"

Stephen floundered for a few moments. "Well it's just--you know, the feeling of being naked at night versus in daylight--and just-like-walking around someone else's home nude-"

I chuckled and turned for the door. "I'll find your clothes. You find the bathroom."

I made my way into the living room and after a few moments collected our garments, tossed about haphazardly. I tracked down his pants first, then the underwear, then his shirt and belt. His tie took a bit longer until I realised it was trapped in the couch cushions.

I got it all piled up and carried it to the bathroom, where I could still hear the tap and the sound of brushing.

"Hey, I found your stuff. Just gonna... leave it inside, alright?"

A grunt of assent, and I turned the knob, quickly dropping the mess of clothes to the floor. I left him to finish up and headed into the kitchen, smiling at the forgotten pot of coffee. I gave it a quick touch, then scowled at its tepid temperature. Nonetheless, I poured myself a mug and popped it into the microwave for a minute. I was awake, and I wasn't going to fall back asleep at this rate.

I was sipping on the coffee when Stephen came out of the bathroom and rounded into the kitchen. We met eyes, and smiled for a moment. "How're you doin for time, champ?"

"I think I'll make it," Stephen replied, slipping on his brown oxfords. "You work today?"

"Not until muuuuch later," I yawned.

Stephen opened his mouth to respond, but paused as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and gave it a look, and I saw the way his face immediately tightened up. He stared at it for all of 2 seconds, then shook his head, returning to his easy self. I caught his eye. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah... just more of the same. C'mere."

I walked over, and Stephen gently took the mug of coffee from me in one hand as he pulled me close with the other, slipping his hand beneath the robe to grip the bare skin of my lower back. He gazed down at me over the sharp, straight beak of his nose, and kissed me softly, a searching kiss, just short of passionate. He pulled away, smiling faintly. I have to hope I looked the same, or at least as dignified.

"Are you free this weekend?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yuh huh. Or um. I mean except Friday, I work the open Friday-"

"But you'll be off by the evening."

"9 by the latest."

Stephen smiled, then lifted the mug of coffee to his lips. He took two heavy swigs, then handed it back to me. "Damn fine cup of coffee."

I watched him slip into his coat, and scoffed as I swilled about the few tablespoons worth left in the mug. "Stale and overnight? I'm beginning to question your standards."

"Question away," Stephen chuckled as he approached the door. "I normally drink instant stuff."

"Ugh." I pulled a disgusted face. "I can't believe I was gonna sleep with you."

"I can." Stephen gave me a cocky grin and a wink, and I feigned a scandalised expression. I saw an echo of the young man he had been, devastating hearts with good looks that sat as well on a boyish adolescent heartthrob as a handsome, distinguished man.

He moved to step out, and started to close the door. I'm not really sure why, but maybe it was seeing him out there in the grey air, the sun peeking over the rooftops, stepping into the cold as I stayed within, bundled up. I piped up. "Stephen!"

He turned back. "Yeah?"

"Have a good day at work, okay?"

The look he gave me was like he'd been frozen in time and set to wobble like a pendulum, still in motion but with his mind and body fully stalled. His eyes slid onto mine and I saw them almost melt for a moment before he grinned back at me. "Thanks, I will. You too, Jo."

And then he was gone, the door slapping shut after him. I finished the mouthful of coffee I was holding and set the mug aside, sighing.

May as well start making breakfast.

-------

"Are you fuckin kidding me?"

Karyn's disbelieving question hung in the tense silence of the room, but I could feel-and contribute to-a sense of assent among the staff.

We sat about the empty venue, curtains to the front windows drawn, the half dozen of us that worked front of house as well as the ten or so kitchen guys. The two general managers stood at the head of a long row of tables where the majority of us cradled our first or second drinks. With this news, there was sure to be more poured.

Laurent, a somewhat prissy francophone, pursed his lips at that. "Unfortunately no, Karyn. We are as surprised as you, it seems the owner has been struggling for some time."

"Bullshit," Karyn replied tersely. "We're the rank and file, we see the revenue in real time. Where's he losing it all?"

"That's not our business, nor is it that easy to explain," Rebecca cut in. I rolled my eyes inwardly. Even now, in the death throes, they were playing corporate tag team.

"The hell it isn't," Karyn shot back. "This is our livelihood-some of us have kids, man!"

Rebecca held up her hand. "I hear that, and I sympathise. I have kids, Karyn. Which is why we'll be ensuring you're all given proper severance and are eligible for employment insurance."

A little chorus of sighs and groans. "EI ain't shit," Vic rumbled. "And three weeks ain't much notice. This isn't something that just happens."

More vocal assent now. I agreed, and I folded my arms over my chest gritting my teeth but... I also knew the best we could do was bitch about it. Still, it felt nice. Nice to at least rage, instead of quietly, resignedly roll over, like some beaten dog. I was jaded and tired after over a decade of this industry, of the way we, the expendable class, would be hired on in a seasonal scoop, worked to the bone, and dumped before we were eligible for security or benefits. It didn't make it any easier.

A few of us headed to a bar a few blocks away afterwards to really bitch and commiserate. I winced as I watched Karyn slam another tequila shot. "Jeez, girl, take it easy."

"S'fine, mom's got the kids tonight. I just... I can't believe this shit. Guess it's time to find a new job."

"Yeah," I sighed. "Nothing like being the awkward new hire for another month and a half."

"I just... I really liked this one, man! Busy, but not too demanding, like friggin banqueting or sports bars or whatever. Good drinks, okay food. And friggin awesome staff!" She threw her arm about me, snatching my shoulder tightly to pull me into a bonecrushing half hug, with strength I wouldn't have expected of her thin, bony frame. I smiled warmly, and leaned into her embrace.

"Hear fucking hear."

At the end of the bar the kitchen crew stood chugging pints. Carla drifted over, spinning the ice in her vodka cran about with a straw. She stuck her lower lip out and collapsed against the bar. "This sucks, guys! I thought I was finally gonna learn a thing or two about cocktails and not just carry drinks to dirty old men for once. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Carry drinks to more dirty old men," Karyn replied bluntly. I smirked.

"Carla, I get that you're more of a doer," I offered. "But none of this is stuff you can't figure out by referring to a manual, or watching some instructional stuff. And honestly, there's no shame in looking a recipe up on the fly. Sometimes I forget what's in a drink."

"Mm. But the tips were so much better here!"

Karyn threw her hand up, nodding in agreement. "Right? God, it was like getting two paychecks at once sometimes."

The evening passed into night, and most of the others took off. I stood at the bar, nursing a rye and ginger as I relayed the news to Stephen.

"That's unfortunate... not only because of the loss of employment but I personally liked the place. Kind of the only reason for me to be in that neck of the woods. Are you going to be okay?"

I sighed, shifting my weight. It was funny, whenever I got or lost a job, I felt a strange combination of relief and worry. Relief that I'd found employment, worry that I'd fuck it up. Relief that I was freed of a Sisyphean hell, worry about, well, basic survival. I fought down the nest of snakes that threatened to plague me with visions of roadside poverty.

"Yeah, I always land on my feet. Worst case, I'll get a job or two in dishpit somewhere. Anything but a drivethru off the freeway."

"You're too smart for any of that. You should aim higher."

"Settle down, mom. For one, I don't have the kind of credentials you need to fail upwards. For another... I like this kind of work."

"You like washing dishes?"

"Oh shut the fuck up."

I smirked, and sipped at my drink. Just texting him about it was helping to ease my uncertainties. I glanced over as I heard a shuffle of movement. Carla stood by me with Karyn flagging from her shoulder, looking ready to pass out. She looked pretty soused herself, but was managing to keep her eyes open and support the both of them, which was good. Oh, to be young and invincible again.

"Hey, I'm gonna take momma bear home. You gonna be okay?"

"Carla, I am larger than the both of you put together. Believe me when I say I will be fine."

Carla chuckled. "Just checking. You know I look after my girls."

Their uber arrived, and Carla spilled Karyn in before scooching in herself. She gave one last wave to the bar's front window, then they were off, and I was left to drink and think and drink some more. I sighed. Time to update the resume, I suppose.

I headed home before too late, the resentment and anxiety I felt keeping me from really enjoying, or so much as consoling, myself. I felt listless, adrift. I wanted to sleep for 6 months straight and wake up to abundance. I let myself into my apartment and tossed my things to my couch, only bothering with the hall light on my way to the bathroom. I needed time to process, and as I stepped into the bathroom and stripped down, I already began to feel a bit calmer. I got into the shower and found the right setting for my personal preference of hot water, and leaned into it, shivering as I felt my body tense and throb, becoming accustomed to it, enjoying the endless pinpricks of steaming droplets raining upon me like a cleansing flame. In my melancholy my mind flashed to the dinner a few nights back, the rude server who'd clocked me. Maybe it was my croaky voice. Maybe it was these fucking shoulders. I looked down at myself, then squeezed my eyes shut, squeezed myself as I wrapped myself up. I sank into a fetal crouch, holding the back of my neck with laced fingers as I tried to make myself small enough to be completely insignificant, invisible, and maybe thereby not have to endure this... bullshit we call a modern life.

It was childish, and I knew it was childish, but part of me missed being swathed in the cradle of someone else's responsibility. Though even the thought of returning to my familial home for assistance at this point was enough to make me groan and shake the thought from my head as though it rattled about in there, a loose scrabble piece. I sighed, raising my head, and stretched under the spray, feeling perpetually tight muscles only partially give way. I stood, and reached for the shampoo. It wasn't a conscious decision, but I smiled faintly. Whenever I felt down, washing my hair seemed to help immensely. I took my time, getting a decent lather, during which time my mind wandered to hopes and daydreams, tentative plans, unbidden intrusions of the most asinine jokes that brought a stifled smile to my face.

By the time I was rinsing my hair out, lost in the sweetly clinical smell, I felt much lighter. I also felt exhausted. The early afternoon drinking party was taking its toll, and I was yawning before 10. Oh well. I didn't have much inclination to go anywhere, anyway. I conditioned my hair and washed down the rest of myself, and stepped out of the shower feeling fresh and clean, in every sense of the word, a lightness to my step I'd lacked beforehand. I brushed my teeth, gazing at my bleary reflection as the mirror slowly defogged, taking in my dark brown eyes. Long lashes, slender, almond shape... I think I'd call them pretty? What did Stephen see when he looked in these eyes? What did I see?

I lay listening to the drip of the gutter outside my window, the sound of a muffled television in a neighbour's unit, felt how comfortable my bed was beneath me, a queen sized mattress I had spent weeks comparing to others before purchasing--but I still couldn't sleep. I wasn't restless, tossing and turning, but I was seemingly wide awake from the moment I lay my head to pillow. My night owl traits coming back to bite me.

I turned over in bed and shivered as I smelled the faint remainder of Stephen's sweat and cologne. I felt myself twitch in my panties, and my belly tightened as my breath caught in my throat. Thoughtlessly, I followed the feeling, pressing my nose into the bed where he'd lay as I squeezed a hand between my thighs. I shivered, gasping at the intensity of the sensation--I wasn't even half hard and I felt...

"Nnn... Stephen," I whispered huskily as I stroked a couple fingers along my panties, feeling it tickle beneath. Thinking about him, about his smell, about him bearing down on me... about him touching me, manhandling me--

I started getting harder, and twisted, my legs bunching up and my ankles crossing. I gripped the bed, sniffing deeply for his scent, worried now it would be dispersed deep in the threads and polymers and lost to me entirely and swiftly. My other hand worked between my legs, rubbing and clutching, probing and squeezing. A few times I ventured towards my back end, grazing my tight hole with shivers of fantasy, but more troubling was the thought that I'd done little to experiment back there and Stephen was not by any metric, anywhere, a small customer.

This wasn't enough to sober me however, and I lost myself in delicious delusions of us writhing about like snakes. At times I felt myself become soft, others, grow hard again, and though I didn't come I enjoyed riding shallow waves of euphoria. At some point I fell asleep, the comfort of a yawning blackness coming to meet me.

-------

"So, what kind of experience do you bring to the table?"

I cleared my throat, trying to maintain a composed, confident front and keep up a perfectly regular amount of eye contact without coming off creepy. I suddenly felt overdressed in my business casual shirt and jacket, sitting across from a manager wearing a faded Sonic t-shirt under a short sleeve button down. "Well, I have several years of experience as a cocktail bartender, crafting classics as well as original-"

"Nah, we don't really do cocktails here," he cut in, leaning onto the table to look over my resume for what felt like the 17th time. I almost crossed my arms impatiently and caught myself, trying to remain still and calm. It's just a job. I need a job. I need money, because I need to not die of exposure.

"You've got serving experience then?" He tapped at my work history.

I fought back an exasperated sigh and nodded. Dude, did you even bother reading the resume? What is happening here? "Yes, over a decade. Kind of my bread and butter most of my career."

"That's good, we need people able to run a lot of plates. You got long arms, how many plates can you run?"

"Euhh, I guess 5 at a time?" I swallowed. I really did notwant to have to be running 5 plates all night. Why did I always try and sell myself as a workhorse?

"Mm. Okay, I'm just gonna run this back to the office and see about maybe getting you a trial shift."

I felt my feet thrumming under the table as he got up and tromped to the back. Finally, something. What felt like dozens of applications sent out and venues stopped by, but I had an interview within the week, and what's more, it seemed to be going quite well. Unfortunately, it was also a large sports bar, the kind of place I'd rather avoid, and where 90 percent of my coworkers would be variations of Carla, which I saw clearly as a few milled about by the host stand. I sighed, my eyes sweeping about the sparsely populated, mid-morning restaurant, the neon siding and tacky signs so glaringly out of place in the dispassionate glow of the natural light leaking in through the windows. Outside, the autumn wind whipped across a wide parking lot.

The manager-Greg? Grog?-returned with a card, and handed it to me. "Alright, that's got the dates of your first couple trial shifts, we'll get you shadowing Meg, that goes well and you'll get your own section next week."

I forced a smiled as I stood and shook his hand. "Great! Thank you!"

"No problem, and listen, don't worry about the size of the place, we all got our bit to do."

I stepped outside to the sounds of cars flying down the freeway by the strip mall. No fucking way I was taking this job. It was almost an hour away by bus, which didn't include waiting at the stop, and they were offering less than minimum, which--I sighed. Few people cared enough to make a stink about such things, Most of us just sighed, put our heads down, and ate shit for pennies.

I sat at the bus stop, and flicked out my phone.

"Hey. You free today?"

I shivered as the wind gusted over the open concrete plains of urban sprawl, a tickling caress compared to the sharp gale winds that winter would bring. My knitted scarf, a gift from my aunt, did wonders keeping my ears and neck warm, but my fingers, already prone to poor circulation, were frozen. I curled them into fists in my pockets, willing some heat back into them. After what felt like forever, the bus arrived, and I boarded to begin the odyssey back across two neighbourhoods to my own. I found a seat near the back and checked my phone. Nothing. I sighed, and tried to dissociate my way through the journey.

When I got home, I felt glum and lonely, and immediately understood the appeal of a pet. As much as it was nice to get home and collapse, it felt more like a comfortable purgatory than anything else, my cloistered cell where I sat as life continued on around me. My latest book sat dog-eared, nearly halfway done, for the last few weeks. My game consoles sat inert under a layer of dust. Just how long had I been going through the motions of work, bar, home, chasing temporarily pleasures like a hound after its own tail? I told myself it was a vicious cycle brought about by the demands and stresses of life and work but that was exactly why I was so breezy and dismissive, I knew that at closer inspection that lie would fall flat. I was on a merry go round of my own making, constructed from bits of scrap I found in the corner of the dump afforded to me.

I sighed, laying back on my couch, throwing one leg over the back cushions. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, so why not have some borrowed fun while I'm at it, was my reasoning. I hated that it was just after midday. I had a sudden thirst.

Nonetheless I also knew I had work soon, and feeling the languor from my early rise, I set an alarm to give me two hours of grace time, and threw an arm over my eyes, letting my mind run amok until it led me into comforting, mundane dreams.

I awoke an hour and a bit later to the unholy blare of my phone alarm and snapped upright to silence it. I swung my legs off the couch as I yawned, mildly regretful of my choice as I now wished to keep sleeping, and checked my phone. A response from Stephen.

"Sorry, I've got some papers to grade on top of backed up work. Everything okay?"

I padded into the kitchen to make myself some coffee and get ready for the dinner shift.

"Yeaaah, it's nothing. I'm just being dumb. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

My stomach growled and I opened the fridge. My face fell as I saw how scarce my foodstuffs really were. A sliver of butter. A wilted stalk of celery. One-one egg?!

"Fuck, and I need to get groceries," I whispered to myself. Another pang of worry to contend with.

"I don't mind if it's just something small. I'm actually on lunch, you want to talk about it?"

I sighed, staring at my phone as I listened to coffee machine finish bubbling. Fuck it.

"Is it okay if I call you? Or is that weird?"

The machine finished percolating and clicked to standby. I poured myself a mug, watching the steam blossom from the rim. My phone buzzed.

"Weird? I remember when that was the only way you could get ahold of someone!"

"Okay old man." I rolled my eyes, smirking to no one, and texted him that same sentiment. Before he could reply, I hit the phone icon. It rang once, and then I heard him pick up.

"Hey, Jo," came his easy greeting. He sounded a touch muffled, and I could hear the sound of wind on his end.

"Hey... are you outside?"

"Yeah, I was out for lunch, now I'm just... just walking I guess. What's going on? How've you been?"

I sank onto the large radiator by the kitchen window, gazing out at the appropriately termed dismal view as I sipped my coffee. "I've been okay. Been... better, obviously. I uh. Had an interview today."

I probably sounded a bit too hopeful as I said it. Stephen practically cheered, praising me like I was his firstborn and got accepted to Yale. "That's-that's great, Jo, and so soon! Where is it?"

"I don't think I'm gonna take it," I sighed.

"Oh... why not?"

I chewed my lip. I suddenly felt very foolish, like some child turning their nose up at a decent opportunity. But at the same time, after this long in the industry I could sniff out exploitation and this place reeked. "It's just... not the kind of place I think I could stick with. I'm not sure how to put it except I'd either end up fired or quitting before too long and... what's the point of that, right?"

"Hey, that's fair," Stephen replied. "You know what your repertoire is and how to employ it. Why sell yourself short? Honestly, that's what I've been trying to tell you."

"You have, haven't you?" I gave a small smile. "What about you? How's work?"

"As can be expected," he replied. "Both classes seem to be going smoothly. Haven't been pestered for anything lately, though old Vergen wants to have some kind of 'year end soiree' at his place. Not a Christmas or holiday gathering, mind you, since that would be vulgar, I suppose. I--Jesus, I'm sorry. I'm... I'll stop."

"No," I chuckled quietly, "I like it when you get like this. You're usually so calm, cool."

"Am I?"

"Mm. But I see under that."

"What do you see." His voice had dropped to a low, intimate murmur. I felt my tongue flick over my lower lip.

"I see you. You know, you remind me of Harry Haller, come to think of it."

"I..." A moment of silence. "I'm not sure how I should take that?"

"It's not a bad thing!" I grinned, leaning up against the windowsill. "I always read him to be quite dashing. A silver fox, I guess."

"Silver wolf," Stephen corrected.

"Steppenwolf," I shot back cheekily. I heard him laugh.

"Does that make you Hermine?"

"That's a good question. Have I made your life a bit more worth living?" It was my turn to lower my voice to a purr.

"You've definitely given me much to look forward to... and to look back on."

"You and me both," I replied softly. A raindrop caught my eyes as it streaked across the window. Then a second, then a light shower. "Uh oh. Looks like rain."

"Does it? Well--oh. Oh no. What are you, a Greek prophet?"

I laughed. "Don't you dare get a cold before our date!"

"Wouldn't miss it even if I was in a coma. Oh, wow it's really--Jo I'm gonna let you go."

"Okay. Stay dry!"

He hung up and I giggled, sipping at my cooling coffee. It certainly was nice indeed to have something to look forward to.

-------

By Friday, the news had spread and we were busier than ever, regulars, locals, and those after novel experiences racing for the door in order to indulge before the place was shuttered for good. By the close of the second rush we were nearly out of vodka and the glassware and dishes were piled up in the back. I ducked into the kitchen and rolled up my sleeves to handle it and to avoid the scattershot, nonstop, three-piece combo of demands that a single pass through the barroom would bring.

"I'm just done with this shit," Vic was in the midst of shouting across the line to the others. "It's always something, and I end up with most of the workload--you know I had to handle all the orders? No, like kegs and stuff, too? So fuck it, I'm just gonna chill for a couple months, go back to just clocking in, working the line. Find my joy again."

"This shit aint my joy," spat Pete as he jiggled a pan of sauteeing veggies.

"Then my advice is find another line of work," Vic replied. "Job's a job but if you're gonna break your back anyway may as well be something you like."

I nodded to myself as I dipped my arms into the scalding, soapy water and began scrubbing. A good creed, and one that, for obvious reasons, many, many of us had to flout in order to make ends meet.

"What about you, Jojo? Find a new job yet?"

I glanced over my shoulder. Vic was looking at me from his station. I shrugged. "I've got some feelers out. Won't be too long."

"Correct attitude," Vic yawned. I turned back to my work and tore through a few bins.

By 8 the crowds showed no signs of abating, but Nigel and Karyn were both on and didn't mind me begging off.

"Honestly, normally I might be a little peeved, but at this point the less people in the tip pool the better," Karyn grumbled.

"Thank you! I'll make it up to you," I promised as I tugged on my jacket.

"You ever babysit?"

"Anything but that!"

I escaped the mire that would have otherwise swallowed me until at least midnight, if not longer, and skipped up the road at a brisk pace to put some distance between myself and that sinking ship. I was brimming with anticipation, and didn't bother breaking my stride as I texted Stephen.

"Hey, got off early! I'm heading home now. What do you have in store for tonight?"

I reached my stop as he responded. "I thought maybe some music?"

"Hard to go wrong with music. Anything else I should know? Dress code??"

"Nothing in particular. Casual. Anything that shows off that cute butt ;)"

I gasped. Cheeky! "I'll see what I can dig up."

I couldn't get home quickly enough. It felt like the bus was cruising slower than usual, making every stop. By the time I was at a brisk walk up towards my street, I felt as though the better part of an hour had passed. A glance at my phone told me just over twenty minutes had elapsed, and I sighed, though continued in my hurry. I wasn't sure what I wanted to wear, and that could end up taking a while.

I stood in front of my mirror with a pile of clothes about my ankles like seafoam. The name of the game was second guessing. Or was it? Every time I thought I looked alright my treacherous mind would pick at something, and my whole outfit would fall apart. These shades didn't match up. Thue cut of this shirt didn't sit well. Why doesn't this fit anymore?

I sighed, finally just opting for what Stephen had proposed, casual. I liked dressing nice for him. I liked meeting him on his own turf, but mainly I liked how he looked at me. With desire born of something other than quicksilver lust.

I pulled on a checkered flannel over a simple white tee, and some fitting black jeans that wrapped about me snugly without straining, stretching, or constraining anything. They cupped and lifted my butt nicely. I dug into my closet and found my bomber jacket with its ratty sheepskin collar, then set aside my Doc Martens and checked my phone. Still early. I decided to leave my hair down, and tousled it for a few moments to get it out of the usual configuration.

Luckily Stephen wasn't too much longer, and let me know he'd be arriving a bit early. I gave myself one last once over, made double sure I had my keys and such, pulled on my jacket and scarf and jogged down the front steps. Stephen's car idled just by the door. I stepped outside, crossed the sidewalk, and slipped in to the passenger seat. The door slapped shut and I looked over at my companion. "Evening, handsome."

"Hello, gorgeous," he replied. "Your day alright?"

"It's about to be," I replied cheerily, offering him a sunny smile. He grinned back, and pulled away from the curb. We chatted as he drove further towards the downtown core, pausing frequently at reds and making impromptu turns down side streets to avoid traffic. After a frustrated few minutes spent circling a block Stephen finally cursed under his breath and found us a spot a few blocks further away. He glanced at me apologetically as he killed the engine.

"Sorry. Might be a bit of a walk, I kind of forgot how bad it gets down here, especially on weekend nights."

I shrugged, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Now I'm definitely happy I didn't wear any heels."

Out under the glow of streetlamps and city lights I could take Stephen in more fully. He was himself relatively dressed down in blue jeans and sneakers, but the buttoned shirt, sweater vest, and bespoke sports jacket all gave him a distinctly collegiate look regardless. It wouldn't be him, otherwise, though. We walked along, taking in the bustle and remarking on things as we passed. I nudged Stephen and pointed across the street where a pink neon sign flicked between two lit up tubes depicting a manicured hand lifting a tarot card, with the word 'FORTUNE' beneath. "What do you think of that stuff?"

Stephen glanced over, and grimaced. "You mean what do I think, like ethically? Or-"

"I mean would you ever get a reading done! Like as a lark. I don't believe in horoscopes but I still read mine in the paper most days."

Stephen looked down at me with a mote of surprise. "Oh?"

I soured. "What? I said I didn't believe in that stuff!"

Stephen just laughed. "Okay. And to answer your question... no, I don't think I'd do anything of the sort. On one hand I don't put any stock whatsoever into reducing the entirety of ones life to the draw of some finite cards. And on the other..."

He trailed off, a strained look on his face. I peered up at him. "On the other...?"

He sighed and paused for a moment, turning to me. He looked a bit tired. Or maybe sad? It was tough to tell, especially with that careful mask he wore. "On the other, well, we, humans, have a tendency to find patterns, and when we can't, we create them. Walk in circles, seek religion, invent rituals. All it takes is someone telling you something you need, or even want to hear to sucker you in. And the more you have to hope for or worry about..."

I blinked up at him, a bit surprised at the depth he'd thought into it, but I couldn't disagree. As I'd said, I didn't believe in horoscopes, but seeing some good news for the day made me want to. "Huh..."

Stephen shrugged, then put his arm around my shoulders to pull me to him as he continued to walk. "I mean I'm not gonna ever tell someone their beliefs or whatever are poppycock, but, well."

I snuggled against him, crossing my arms over my torso. "Mm. What is your sign, by the by?"

"Me? Capricorn, January 2nd."

I chuckled quietly. "Yup. Classic Capricorn."

I couldn't see him but I swear I could feel Stephen roll his eyes, and he pushed me playfully. "I'll take that as a compliment. What about you?"

"Pisces! March 1st!" I loved that my birthday was on the first. It felt like an event, a herald to spring. Stephen snorted next to me.

"Ah, yes, the crybaby."

"Screw you old man, I'll give you something to cry about!" I mocked beating his chest with my fists and he laughed, finally halting.

"Easy now, I can only take so much abuse!" He glanced up at a sign. "Looks like this is it."

I could hear the faint sounds of music, trumpet perhaps, and perused the sign, intrigued. 'Smokey's'. Stephen led us inside and as the door opened we were awash with the sound of a jazz band, trumpet, sax, a simple drumkit and bass. The four musicians on the small stage off by the side wall glistened with sweat beneath the lights, each of them deeply engrossed with their own instrument and at such differing paces and rhythms it sounded like a paradox, equally discordant and harmonious. Stephen led us to a free table against the back wall where we'd have a good view despite not being close to the stage. And with how hard these guys were playing, I was alright with that. We weren't missing a note.

I caught his eye as we sat, and mouthed at him, "A jazz bar?"

He shrugged back, giving me a half smile. I returned it, not unhappy. It was definitely a first for me. Before too long, a server came over, a grinning bespectacled man with his thick dreadlocks tied up on a kerchief. He pulled a pad from where it was squeezed between one dark bicep and his black tee.

"Ay, welcome to Smokey's, hope you're enjoying Billy Briggs and his Guttersnipes, here alternating Fridays. Get either y'all some drink, a menu?"

"I'll just get a coffee." Stephen glanced at me. "You hungry, or?"

I shook my head, and nodded to the server. "Make it two."

We sipped our coffee and took in the music for a while. I was pleased by how fresh and aromatic it was, having been accustomed to large batches made with little care when I went anywhere but my local collection of cafes. Our hands found one another over the table, and soon my ankle was knocking softly against his. The band came to a break in their set and hopped down to refresh themselves as the house music came back on.

"So, a jazz club," I began. "You really took that 'Harry Haller' comment to heart, huh?"

Stephen shrugged, his grin hidden in his bright eyes. "Do I seem particularly despairing or suicidal to you?"

I coughed on my sip of coffee. "Well, no... I mean I hope not." I gave his hand a little squeeze and shot him a reproachful look. "It's more your attitude towards... I don't know, all the bullshit. The frills."

"I do hate all the pomp."

"And circumstance," I added idly. He snorted, and gazed at me curiously. I giggled, crossing my legs. "Sorry, stupid, I know."

"No," he said quickly. "I appreciate the stupid jokes. I need more stupidity in my life."

"I've got all you need, baby," I muttered with a wink, and he squeezed my hand again, smirking.

"Listen, um..." He cleared his throat, and leaned a bit further over the table. "I... maybe this is a bit forward. But. Do you... would you want to come back to my place?"

I stared at him, and chuckled incredulously. "Why are you so cute? Like a... a little puppy."

Stephen slowly closed his eyes, smiling at my mild abuses. "I just... I didn't want to assume..."

I leaned in and dropped my voice. "After what we got up to last time, I don't think you have to be shy about it."

His eyes burned into mine, and I felt him tickle his fingers across my palm. We got ourselves up and hurried over to pay, slipping out into the night before the next set began. Our walk back to the car was a brisker pace, and few words were exchanged, both of us vibrating with the promises the night afforded.

Stephen lived in a neighbourhood some twenty minutes from my own, up the ridge that had been carved out by a shoreline in some bygone era. The streets became a patchwork grid of well kept lawns and two or three storey homes. The car slowed in front of a handsome, red brick Tudor, and turned into the drive. Stephen cut the ignition and looked over at me. I gave him a reassuring smile, and we stepped out of the car.

Some lights were on inside, and as we stepped through the door I could hear the faint noise of a television, as well as something scrabbling frantically-getting closer-

A midsized dog, a black and white Collie, flew around the corner at such a speed it hit the foyer wall with its rump before rocketing up to greet Stephen, tail flailing.

"Bella! Have you been good? You been good, baby?"

I absolutely melted, practically whining as I watched the display. In short order Bella was done with her greeting and moved on to sniffling and identifying this new addition to the pack. I hunched down to ruffle my hands down through her furry coat, leaning back and cackling as she tried to hop up and lick my face.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Stephen laughed sheepishly. "She's always happy to meet new people. Bella, c'mere! Let's let you out back for a bit, you're probably... bursting at the seams..."

I followed him into the kitchen, where he slid open the patio door. Bella flew into the yard, sprinting about to sniff and double sniff areas that had gone without her marking for all of a half a day. He slid the door shut and walked back towards the fridge. "Drink? Bit of wine?"

I drifted over to lean against the counter not too far from him. "Mm. Alright, not too much though."

He poured us each a modest glass and we sipped as he showed me around. The kitchen was no nonsense, to the point. He had quite a bit of cookery stacked about or hanging from hooks and I could see it was all well used, and not simply for show the way many similar looking kitchens tended to be. There was a genuine dining room with a cabinet full of heirloom china, crystal, teapots and the like. The long, polished table was topped with a white lace cover. It led through a panel of wide, sliding doors to something of a sitting room--a loveseat sat flush to the front window, before a black marble coffee table flanked by a couple armchairs, a hearth set into the side wall, and across the foyer hall was a more modern living room, where we finally sank to a plush sectional to relax. The television was playing a reel of still cameras depicting small animals at a feeding station. Something to keep Bella entertained, I suppose.

Stephen sat facing me, and I mirrored him, swirling my wine about before giving it a sniff. "It's a sauv blanc," he said, observing me. "Nothing special, but I'm not much of a sommelier."

"As long as it isn't chard," I replied with a smirk, and took a sip. "Mm."

Stephen smiled, and took a sip himself. "So, what'd you think of the music tonight?"

"I don't know, I don't really listen to much jazz, particularly that... freeform is it? It's kinda. Hard to think about when I'd want to hear that. Not while exercising or working, that's for sure."

"Well god no," Stephen laughed. "But I guess I can see your point."

"You like that kinda stuff?"

"I dabble, I suppose," Stephen replied, glancing at me as he raised his glass to his lips.

"Mmhm, of course. An all around renaissance man."

I moved closer to him, leaning in as we worked at our glasses. We found each others eyes and fell quiet, the only sounds the chirps and chitters and other sounds of nature coming from the television. Stephen moved forward and put his glass on the table, then leaned towards me, gently stroking his fingers up my leg. I felt a wave of goosebumps and my breath hitched up in my throat. My eyes hooded over as I watched him, the way his eyes trickled down from my own, down over my body, growing excited, frenzied with ardour. I slowly tipped my glass back, emptying it, then placed it next to his on the table, immediately feeling the lightness of the drink swimming through me. He let his hand run up my thigh to grip my bottom and tugged me forward into him.

I tilted my head up to gaze into his eyes, stormy seas, and parted my lips, wordlessly begging him to kiss me. He acquiesced as I clung to his shirt, squeaking out small, barely there moans as the waves of pleasure began to stack and I became jelly in his sturdy arms.

There was a sound like something scraping, and he pulled back abruptly, his head whipping toward the kitchen. "Shit-I have to let Bella in. Hold on."

"Ah... yeah, of course." I slid off his lap and watched him hurry off with only the tiniest pang of impatience. Heard the patio door slide open and his sweet talk to Bella, before she bounded in, beating his return, and rushed over to me to secure more pets. He took a few moments, and I heard the sound of a can being opened, which got Bella's attention and drew her back to the kitchen. The sound of the tap, and finally, Stephen stepped back in.

"Whew. Sorry about that. Food should keep her occupied for a bit."

I rose, swaying my hips deliberately as I walked over. "We're gonna need longer than a bit, I think."

He gave me his slow smile, and took me by the hand. "Alright, then I suppose I'd better show you around upstairs."

He led me up the flight of steps to the second floor. It looked a bit older, more lived in up there. Off to the left was what looked like a bedroom, likely a guest room. The bed was unmade, the glow of the hall light casting shadows over the rumpled folds of sheets and blankets. There was another room that looked more like a study from what I could see, bookshelves on the back wall, a chair. Probably a desk.

The tour was truncated, however, and led directly to the master bedroom. Heavy curtains lay over a wide window facing the road. An antique four-poster bed, no canopy however. A trunk lay at the foot of the bed, carved with various patterns, and a television sat atop a wide bureau.

No sooner had we entered than Stephen turned, pressing me back against the door as it shut, his lips mashing over mine. I looped my arms beneath to clutch his shoulders, and lifted one leg alongside him. Reading my unspoken ballet, he swiftly lifted me, bracing as I wrapped my legs about his waist, and ferried me to the bed. He sank onto the edge of the bed, holding me close as I remained wrapped about him, straddling him. He kissed down my cheek and neck, hungrily going at any bit of my exposed skin he could, sucking at my clavicle... I bit my lip, grinding myself into his lap, and brushed my fingers through his hair, tickling at his ear. I grunted as he pawed at my breast unexpectedly, and dug my fingers into his back. I swivelled my hips more insistently down into his crotch, my sock feet locked behind his lower back, keeping him hostage. I inhaled sharply feeling a rigid bulge pressing between my legs. Stephen chose that moment to let his tongue dance up the side of my neck to my ear. I felt my heat rise, and my breath grow shaky.

"E-easy there, tiger," I managed weakly, and pushed him back. "Lay back on the bed and let me spoil you a bit."

He conceded, and I unfolded, crawling off him, then directed him up to lay on his back. I prowled over to him on hands and knees, playing it up, and laid my hand onto the swell at the front of his pants, gently rubbing it in a circle with my palm. I smiled up at Stephen, a genuine, earnest smile. One that said I wanted to make him feel good.

I unbuckled him, folded down the jeans and boxers just far enough to expose him, mostly hard. With a small noise of unbridled joy, I dove in, planting a wet, open mouth kiss at the base of his member, warm and rigid. My tongue played back and forth as I kissed and sucked, moving around to the other side and feeling each vein engorge, fattening up my delicious new toy.

"God, how do you walk around with this thing," I muttered wryly, squeezing the base and pressing the length of it along my face. I looked up at Stephen with lusty, seductive eyes, He laughed, looking a bit bashful at the compliment.

"I guess it's just second nature? I've never considered it a problem... well. Outside of a select few relationships."

"I'll bet," I breathed. My mind flashed for a moment to the thought of taking this thing inside me. A moment of shuddering arousal, then a moment of abject fear, a surety of pain. I pushed the thoughts out of my mind, my eyes nearly crossing on the towering erection before me, and gave it a few lazy pumps. It stood fully at attention now, and pushing myself up and over it I lowered my head to the tip. As my mouth pressed around his head, I heard Stephen sigh happily. I planted my hands on the crux of his hips and thighs, and slowly pressed my mouth down, the tip of my tongue forcing its way into his foreskin, peeling it down, off, off from around his head. He grunted, exhaling audibly at that, and Sat up slightly. I felt pleased by the affirmation of my efforts, and swirled my tongue over his head a couple times as though cleaning it, polishing it. Each time, I felt the muscles and tendons in his pelvic area twitch like crazy. Saliva built up in my mouth and I let it run freely down his tool, knowing perfectly well how enjoyable it was.

"Ff... god, Josie..." It was just a whisper, but enough to spur me on, and immediately I pressed my throat down onto his raging prick. I spasmed, but stifled my gag reflex, and inched my way down his cock. In a flash I felt his hand in my hair like a vise, wrapping up a handful of my thick, curly waves. I grew noticeably hard, my eyes fluttering as I pressed, was pressed, further down the shaft. My mind exploded with fireworks in all sectors as thoughts and emotions flew threw me. What did this mean? Was I a masochist? Why did it feel so good to be used like this? I mean, obviously not by anyone, just him and why him? Why did it feel so good? Had I always been like this? It might explain some of the problems with past relationships. Wasn't there a guy in my teens I sort of had feelings like this towards? God, why did it feel so good?

I flew back, gasping for air, and Stephen immediately let me loose as I did, breathing heavy as he'd like been holding his own breath some in that way we tend to in moments of great excitement. I coughed, feeling the now familiar soreness in my jaw and throat, and gazed down at Stephen's prick, stiff in a bedding of dark pubic hair, glistening and slick from my mouth and throat. I felt my pucker twitch and swallowed, then looked up at Stephen meekly.

"Do... do you have um... any lube?" I realised how quiet I sounded after I said it, but Stephen heard me all the same. His eyes focused on mine, fully serious, and it's as though we had a silent dialogue in that moment, him asking me if I was sure, if I was ready, me saying yes, him asking if I was sure, really really sure, me saying yes, for the love of god-

Stephen twisted, leaning over the bedside table to pull out a low drawer, and reached toward the back. He surfaced with a clear bottle of what might be mistaken for shampoo otherwise, close to half done. I raised my brow and cocked a smile down at him. "Oh? Been busy?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Stephen replied teasingly. I reached forward to take it and he pulled it away for a moment, grinning at me and my unamused expression, then handed it to me. I leaned down close to his face, smelling the ghost of his aftershave.

"Get yourself out of those clothes already," I murmured, then leaned back and began tugging off my tops. Stephen didn't need any more instruction and followed suit. I hopped off the bed to wriggle out my lower garments, watching as Stephen leaned forward to remove his pants, the folds and flexes of his body. My own cock now stood straight out, free and unbound. There were times I hated to look down and see it like that but again... when compared with Stephen's, it almost felt like a non-issue.

More pressing to me was the prospect of what was to come. My heart hammered as I crawled back onto the bed towards Stephen. He drank me in, watching me move. I felt clumsy and unsure but he beheld me with rapt eyes as though I was his own Scheherazade. I lay one tentative hand along his thigh, enjoying the contact of his skin on mine, and leaned down to kiss him there, leaving a trail back towards his cock. When I arrived, I gave it a few more appreciative licks, then shimmied myself up to kneel closely. I clicked open the bottle of lube and upturned it over my cupped palm, watching as the semi-viscous goop drizzled out and pooled there, cool to the touch. I took the wet handful and slathered it down Stephen's length, my fingers widening and working softly to completely coat it. It was dripping, the lubricant giving it the whitish shade of precum. It all looked so positively filthy and I felt myself lose cohesion and reason as I feel further into an all consuming arousal.

I slowly moved to straddle him, kneeling over his waist with a knee on either side of his hips. He ran his hands up my thighs to clutch me, possessive, comforting. His large hands made me feel a bit smaller, something I was neither used to nor unhappy about. With trembling hands, I squirted more lube down my bunched up fingers, my whole hand becoming slippery and shiny. I took a deep shuddering breath, and leaned myself forward, before reaching back to rub the solution against my anus.

I panted, and quickly moved to support myself with my free arm, already a bit panicky. I felt Stephen's hands slide up to my flanks to support me, his lips on the base of my neck.

"Don't rush yourself... just take your time. I can wait."

He was sweet, but the thing is I didn't want to wait. I suddenly very much wanted this. Good or bad, I wanted it. As the lube inundated my hole I felt it give way slight, and slipped a finger in. It was a curious feeling, not one I hadn't experienced at some point during a shower or what have you, but different given the slickness of the lube and the heightened state of arousal I was in. I swallowed, trying to relax, and worked it further in-

Nngh. A twinge of discomfort, but I eased off and massaged my way in slowly, feeling how the lube gave me passage. After a bit I was able to get my middle finger in and out with some ease. I opened my eyes, looking down at Stephen, who regarded me intently. He smiled. "You okay?"

"Y.. yeah-hah," I managed, gasping at a new mix of sensations. It felt like it should feel good, like it almost felt good, beyond the subtle discomfort. I tugged my finger free and trembled slightly at the sensation. I swallowed, then leaned up to squirt more lube onto my fingers. A few drops fell to Stephen's chest, due to how shaky my hands had become. "Okay... let's try again."

I manoeuvred my finger back in, trying to focus as Stephen continued his assault along my collarbones and shoulders. I took a deep breath, then pushed my ring and middle fingers in together. I grit my teeth as I felt myself stretch, felt the sudden sharp burn as something not entirely elastic, at least not immediately, made do as best it could. I waited for some time, and repeated the motions I had from the start, easing my way in. As I curled and dug, I felt something pleasurable inside, something that made me gasp. "Oh.."

"Oh?" Stephen's murmur by my ear made my eyes flutter hazily. I nodded.

"Yeahh... I think I'm... unff... almost..."

I drew out and finally added my index finger to the thrust. I was giving way far more easily now, though I definitely felt my limits continue to be pushed. But that feeling, that sensation deep within me...

I swallowed. It was time, now or never. I rose upright, scooting my knees back to better position myself. I gazed down at Stephen as he peered up at me wonderment in my eyes. Wondering how he got here, maybe. I certainly was. I don't think either of us were complaining, however. I reached down behind me and found his prick. The bulbous glans felt like it filled up my palm, and I rolled my closed fingers over it, the lube from both of us making a wet smacking sound. He twitched, as alive as ever. With a few deep breathes, I angled it towards my ass, and carefully guided it up to meet my opening.

There were a couple false starts where he slid up between my cheeks or glanced off my perineum, but finally I felt it reach the berth of my entrance, and begin to breach in. Like before, the initial kiss was curious and inoffensive, kind of nice, but as I pushed myself further down, I felt him widen me, widen me further--oh god, I can't take it, I-

I popped off it, wincing and crying out. I managed to catch myself, my hands slapping down onto Stephen's chest. He quickly caught me, concern evident. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I'm--mmph. No, I'm fine, I just... I need a moment."

"Are you sure?"

My breath slowed and I looked up at him, feeling the sweat pouring from my forehead grow clammy, and wiped my fringe aside, sticking to my temple. I nodded, then got back into position. A bit more lube... more deep breaths...

"Ohh! Oh... f-fuck," I stammered as he entered me the second time. Again, a nearly unbelievable, unbearable level of pain, not particularly terrible but for how much worse it is to feel a sudden pain that seems more internal than external. I held fast, however, I breathed... breathed, trying to relax, trying to become accustomed to the pressure, the size of it stretching me out...

The pain subsided to a dull ache, and I gingerly bounced, trying to swallow up more of it. Stephen took my face in his hands. With half-focused eyes I watched him grow closer as he pulled me in, and laid a soft kiss on my lips. He didn't break away, and soon I was calmer, moaning quietly as our tongues duelled. His hands went gently to my hips. He tugged me down, gently, insistently, his own legs tensing and bracing as he crept further up into me. I whimpered into his mouth, my hands crawling up over his face frantically. Discomfort replaced with soft intimacy, pain quickly superseded by pleasure, pleasure thundering over me as he scraped past that heavenly spot inside of me--I gasped, then let out a shuddering cry as he pressed more deeply in than before. He held me there a few moment, and i pulled up enough that I could more closely focus on his face as my fingers caressed either side--a bit flushed, a faint expression of euphoria present, and those boyish blue eyes, boring into mine. I felt my muscles squeeze around him, twitching involuntarily. I ran my fingertips over his jaw.

"Stephen..."

He was silent for a moment, lost in me, lost in the pleasure I was giving him. "... Yes?"

I squeezed deliberately this time, swivelling myself slowly on his prick, feeling it slide ever so slightly deeper. I looked deep into his eyes, unsure if I was the hypnotist or the hypnotised. "I want you to fuck me."

A few moments of silence, and a little nod from Stephen. I felt those strong hands about my hips again, gripping tightly. Felt the cords of muscle in his forearms as I ran my hands up them, and then-

I think I cried out but if I did it came out so high it was a silent squeak. Without warning or preamble, Stephen drove his dick as deeply into me as possible. My cheeks sat, pressed against his pelvis. My knees had splayed, my legs askew like a newborn deer. I could barely support myself, my trembling hands clutching weakly at his chest. There was a moment of genuine fear, where I was sure I was about to feel a peal of pain rip through me, but after a few moments of an ebbing throb, I realised I was mostly at risk of delirium with how much I was sweating and panting. Stephen kissed me again, holding me close, holding still and planted within me. I gasped in and around his mouth for air, constantly thrown off by mounting waves of sensation. "Stephen, oh my god, Stephen I can't I... oh god, this... fuck..."

I kissed him again, my tongue greedily taking up residence in his mouth, and he slowly began to piston in and out of me. I choked out a ululating whimper as he did, feeling finally the fullness and pressure and friction against that spot inside me, sending white bolts up my spine to fry the circuitry of my mind. "Nnah! Stephen. Fuck, that... ooh, god-"

He shut me up with another wet kiss, then wrapped an arm around me as he rose to a sitting position. I let him lead, gingerly rotating us so I was on my back. I frantically made sure to keep him inside me the whole way. He gazed down at me now, himself in something of a widened kneel, my raised thighs slung over his, my feet pointing to opposing posters on the bed. My mind flew, running amok with giddy fantasies. Being tied up there, left to his mercy. Sneaking into his office at work to hide under his desk and suck him off. Being his-his--

He reached down, looping his arms beneath my legs, and bore down on me, his arms pressing my legs in and back towards my shoulders. His big hands continued around and gripped my shoulders from behind, holding me tight, flattening me into a press. I swallowed, my own trembling hands coming to rest on his upper back. As if setting him off, he began to fuck me, truly fuck me, driving in and out of me with a force I found impressive and admirable, at any age. Had I ever been so virile? No time to think. I cried, openly and unashamedly, eliciting at first a moment of worry before screaming a guarantee to the contrary. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Everything was a hot mess of carnal pleasure. Sounds fell from my mouth seemingly nonstop. Moans and cries. Directives. Nonsense babbling.

Stephen finally leaned back off me, breathing hard. My legs were short of cramping and I gratefully lowered them, wincing at the burn. His hands ran up my body, over my lower belly, making me squirm beneath him, up, up to play with my breasts. After a few squeezes, his slow strokes churning inside me, he gave a pinch. I grunted, then worked myself around him urgently.

"H... Harder, Stephen," I begged. He smiled, then grabbed one thigh up for leverage as he redoubled his assault. With his free hand, he practically tore at my breasts, bruising me with a delicious reminder of his hands, of who I belonged to-

Ah, that was enough to drive me over the edge. Keening, my eyes rolling back, my back arched and I felt a rush of reality-altering fulfilment. Pleasure mounted like a constantly blooming flower within me, growing from my stomach out to the rest of me, flittering in my chest like a cage full of sparrows, painting my mind white, sparking like static in my fingers and toes. My cock writhed along with me, leaving little sprays up my stomach. I felt like I was floating, suspended by a cushion of clouds and the solid arms of my lover. He didn't stop, his pace didn't slow, and I whined and whimpered like a dog as he flogged away at me, feeling the raw tickle of it all and amazed that it just kept going, that I just kept crying out. Finally he slowed, and pulled out of me. I let out a small whimper, shuddering. "Mmuh... I... St-Stephe..."

He lowered himself to kiss me again, setting my mind reeling. I couldn't keep up. When he pulled away, he was smirking down at me. "You're such a mess right now, Josie."

I chuckled a few times stupidly, trying to piece together a response. "Wh-who's fault is that?"

"Mm. I must be doing a good job then."

"Uh-huh," I responded, reaching up to stroke his head with a quivering hand. "Good boy."

I yelped as he smacked me across the broad side of one cheek. "That's a great idea Josie! Turn over."

I flipped onto my belly and felt as he tugged me up onto my knees, moving up to mount me from behind. My breath quickened again as I felt myself burn anew. How was I so horny? I mean, yes, I was tired but nowhere near how I would be after cumming before. I managed to chuckle despite myself. Wiggling my butt, I peered back up and over my shoulder from where my face was pressed into the bed. "Doggy style? Okayy, I see you Steppenwolf."

He chuckled. "You'll never let that go, will you?"

"Haha... N--" I was cut short as he thrust back into me. By now my passage was fairly accustomed to it, but over time the lube had abated and now there was definitely more friction. Not enough to cause pain. Just enough to be... interesting. Stephen folded down over me, his mouth by my ear.

"Then I guess that makes you my little bitch, right?"

I squeezed around him in my surprise, and moaned happily, the shock of pleasure tending to my flame. "Y-yes, oh fuck yes."

And then the feeling of his teeth on me, between my shoulder and the base of my neck, gnawing, sinking in enough to leave a mark... enough to make me cry out, before immediately encouraging him further. "Harder, fucking mark me... tear me up..."

His hand flew around my throat, squeezing, and I was being yanked back up, halfway to a kneel. Again, through the chaotic lust that fogged my mind, I was able to appreciate him, knowing better than to crush my windpipe. With his other hand he reached up to torture my reddened, sore breasts. I sobbed, the pain reaching a fever pitch to match the pleasure. His thighs slapped against my butt with increasing ferocity, his cock growing thicker and more rigid as it plunged in and out of me-

"Gghhff," I managed, a poor attempt at the phrase 'I'm coming!!', and as he thrust over my love button again I felt myself ejaculate a second time, nearly painful by now, which, again, only added to the sensation. The familiar feelings of my body shaking, my legs tensing and twisting, but now also the way I pulsed and squeezed around the cock hilt deep inside of me. I heard Stephen's breath catch in his throat and he squeezed my breast hard enough I thought it might burst, then thrust again, grunted fiercely, growling as he began to cum, flooding deep within me. I felt him pulsing, felt a curious, warm sensation burgeoning within me, felt...

He released me, likely expecting me to support myself, but I flopped facedown onto the bed like a stunned fish, sliding off of him with a small pop. He fell over me, panicking. "Oh, Jesus--are you alright Josie? Fuck! I went too far, didn't I, I--"

He cut himself off as he saw me raise an unsteady hand. I caught enough breath to respond. "No... oh, god, no Stephen that was... oh my god..."

I started giggling, I couldn't help myself. The afterglow rolled over me, and the bed felt so lush and comforting. I twisted onto my side, curling up a bit as I gazed up at Stephen. He sat kneeling, and reached down to stroke my hair softly, tucking it out of my face. I loved it, that way he looked at me. Like he was so lucky to have me. Like he owned me. I reached out my arms, and he lay alongside me, wrapping one arm over me, running down my back to clutch my butt. I embraced him, nestled in the crook of his arm. I felt a yawn coming on, and knew that sleep would enlist us both soon. I ran my finger lazily over one of his pectorals.

"That was really good," I sighed.

"I'm glad you liked it," Stephen replied a bit cheekily, but quickly discarded the teasing. "Really though... it would be kind of sad if we were. Well. Incompatible."

"Aheh, yeah... to be honest I thought we were, you know, 'incompatible' from the get go."

"Really?"

I nodded, my chin sliding over his chest. "Well I mean, yeah. I figured you were taken, and beyond that, well... not... very into..."

Stephen was quiet for a moment. He responded softly, sounding less like he was choosing his words and more as though he'd thought about this a lot already. "That's understandable. I can't imagine how it must feel, trying to build or hold together intimate, interpersonal, all that stuff when... well."

I sighed. "Yeah."

"But," Stephen began, and I looked up at him. He reached over and stroked my arm. "I thought you were beautiful, and I went from there."

I smirked. "Have you ever done anything... been with anyone er... like me...?"

Stephen coughed. "Ah. If you're asking if I've... well, no. All of my relationships have been with uh... cis women."

"Huh." I ran a circle around his nipple with my index finger.

"Is... that a good huh?"

"It's a huh." I squeezed myself closer to him, yawning. He ran his hand along my arm again, then leaned over to get the lamp. In the dark, listening to his heating systems quiet hiss, I felt myself begin to drift off. "Stephen?"

"Josie?"

"Can we do this again tomorrow?"

He didn't respond, but I felt him tug me in more tightly. Keeping me close. In hand. All his.

I locked my grip about him and drifted off.