by Rayne Auster
“Usually?” I was given a moment of reprieve when Dylan leaned back, moving away from me. “That would mean that’s not what you do. So how is your job different?”
Dylan may have many flaws, but lack of reasoning is not one of them. He immediately saw where I was going and, strangely enough, was genuinely curious. I shook my head in agreement, leaning forward to place my container of Chinese down beside his. I had long since forgotten about the contents thereof.
“I do write specifications, but often I’m called on to do things that are not exactly part of my official job description. I test the system, help out with training and install manuals, and occasionally take over training itself. I guess that’s what happens when you work for a small company.” Seeing as the scent of vanilla was no longer right beside me, I could actually reason well enough to give him a semi-decent explanation, and without a single pause, to boot. We will, of course, ignore the fact that my words actually came out in a jumbled rush, the various sentence constructs meshing to form one unintelligible paragraph.
Dylan was unfazed by my babbling. In fact, as usual, he was amused, and actually took the time to ruffle my hair for the second time in as many days. It felt like he was treating me like a child. “Sounds like you’re an all-around superstar to me.”
That comment was so ridiculous I actually had to roll my eyes, all whilst ignoring the tingle in my scalp his touch had left behind. “I do what I have to do. It pays the bills. What more could I ask for?” I retorted dryly, trying to ignore the disappointment tugging at my senses. The game of cat and mouse, or mayhap I should say cat and bird, we were playing, was really starting to wear me down, and I no longer had the energy to flirt in the hopes of actually getting laid for a change.
“Oh, I don’t know. Job satisfaction. Growth. You know, the usual boring things people look for when committing their life to any given vocation.” He leaned back against the arm of my sofa and stretched his legs out, drawing my attention to his lean build. All deliberate, mind you.
I licked my lips yet again, drawn right back into the game without noticing. I couldn’t help it. Even the knowledge that he was playing with me wasn’t enough to rid me of the temptation to do more than look at the sexy, nicely wrapped package before me. I moistened the flesh of my lips with saliva and stared at him in complete silence. My mind no longer cared enough to try to keep track of a conversation that didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere.
“So….” He broke the silence that was building between us, his dogmatic nature bringing him right back into forbidden territory. “What’s with you and your elevator phobia?”
And that is how we got back to the question I really didn’t want to answer. I knew, however, that Dylan was too persistent to drop that matter, and as such that left only one option open to me. Giving in to the urges that had been plaguing me since I first laid eyes upon the man, I crawled towards him, the proximity of the warm vanilla scent entirely my own doing this time. I leaned in and grabbed his face between my hands so I could press my lips down onto his and kissed him so hard I felt his teeth through his flesh.
His skin was warm and firm beneath my lips as I aggressively attacked it. Desperate to get into the moist heat of his mouth I bit into the tender flesh, trying to give him a wordless message. He, however, did not play along, and kept his lips closed. Instead, he wove his fingers into my hair and pulled, the motion tearing my lips away from his. He stared into my face, the clear calculative gleam in his eyes a sharp contrast to the guilt in my own. Did I mention Dylan thinks too much?
“Are you trying to distract me?” His voice was husky, and the very sound of it was a clear indication that he was not as immune to my tactics as he would like me to think. This is where we come to The Art of Distraction—Lesson Two.
With the promise of victory in my sight, I was not about to give up. I changed tactics and swung my leg over his, effectively straddling his lap. It was not the most graceful of movements, seeing as I was hindered by additional weight around my ankle, but I didn’t care. Once in position, I thrust aggressively up, pushing my erection directly into his groin. Remember that little interesting ten-second fact I dropped a little while back? Seems there may be some validity to it. Dylan was every bit as hard as I was.
His breath escaped him with a hiss. He groaned and instinctively grabbed my hips (I think he intended to push me away, but it didn’t quite work out like that). His hands held me in place and his eyes glazed over. Then he thrust up against me, rubbing his erection over mine. “Ay-very.” I didn’t take offense at the emphasis he put on my name this time. In fact, I found I quite liked the sound of it on his hoarse breath. “We should finish talking first.”
“Time for talking is over.” I twisted my hips out of his grasp and rubbed up against him, returning the jagged thrusts of his hips. Reaching into his hair, I grabbed his scalp and leaned in towards him. “It’s time for action now.” I allowed my breath to linger on his lips for but a moment before yet again claiming his lips in an aggressive kiss. I was, after all, tired of waiting for him to make a move.
I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and was surprised when his lips parted, granting me the entrance I was seeking earlier. I slipped my tongue into the warm heat of his mouth and savored the taste of vanilla within. He let me explore his mouth, his tongue brushing against mine to encourage the embrace, and I took full advantage of it. I thoroughly delved into every corner I could reach: his teeth with the crooked kink just to the right, his palate, the lining of his cheeks. I left no stone unturned, or more specifically, no nerve un-stroked, and the sheer sense of power that coursed through me was addictive.
All too soon, I felt the need to breathe. I reluctantly pulled back from the mind-boggling kiss and rested my forehead against his shoulder, a hungry whimper escaping my lips. I thrust up against him again and groaned, nearly unraveled by the rough texture of the jeans he wore. The single motion was not enough, so I repeated it, pushing harder with each thrust only to cry out when his hands upon my hips halted my motion once again.
“Pushy little bottom, aren’t you?” His breath was as heavy and ragged as mine was, and the warmth of it ruffled my hair. I never would have thought warm air drifting through my hair could be sensual, but it was. Everything about Dylan was sensual, and I couldn’t help but crave him.
I lifted myself up in an attempt to escape his hold on my hips once again and the motion brought me level with his ear. “Who says I’m a bottom?” I breathed directly into it, unable to resist the urge to steal his seduction tactic from him.
“I do.” With that said, he slid his hands down and palmed my ass cheeks. Checkmate. I win.
The Art of Distraction
That was the sweetest victory I ever achieved. Dylan gave up fighting me and we both gave in to our desire. Seeing as my hips were once again free I thrust back up against him, all thoughts but one gone from my mind. It was no longer about distracting him. The only emotion that remained was my need to get what I wanted, and I wanted him buried deep within me. “Want you,” I panted into his ear, my ragged breath betraying just how true those words were.
Instead of replying, he actually put his mouth to better use. Leaning in, he captured my nipple and sucked on it, hard. The combination of heat and moisture pulled a cry of pleasure from my throat, and I thanked my cast for ruining my attempts to get out of bed enough to make me grumpy. As a result, I had no shirt on and the easy access to my skin was a sweet pleasure I had not foreseen when preparing to give my unexpected visitor a piece of my mind. Seems I decided to give him a piece of my ass instead.
He slid his hands up my body, over the elastic holding my sweats, and paused when he reached my naked skin. I dropped my forehead onto his shoulder and panted into the moment of silence that embraced us.
Dylan made his way up my body with his mouth, alternately nibbling and kissing the skin he found along the way, and headed directly for that evil little spot just by my ear that has me melting at the slight
est touch. “You sure about this?” His whispered breath sent shivers of pleasure through me, each and every one headed directly to my groin, building up my need for release. I was practically putty in his hands and he still had the audacity to ask that?
Reaching up, I buried my fingers into his hair and pulled his face towards me, pressing my lips against his right ear. “Hell, yeah,” I growled, all out of patience. Releasing some of his hair, I then dropped my left hand and aggressively pushed it down onto the bulge in his pants, the action entirely deliberate in its intent, this time unraveling him instead of me.
I could have danced around in glee when my action pulled a moan from his throat, his hips pushing up into my hand but that would have required that I get off him, and I wasn’t about to do that now that I had him exactly where I wanted him.
“Yessss.” The word came out like a hiss and this time I wasn’t the one doing the animal impersonations. “Ay... Ay-very.” His hands scrabbled for mine, pushing and pulling at me all at once, almost as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted me to stop or to continue. “Do… do you…” pant pant “protection… lube?” I’d finally manage to reduce him to single words, his eloquence completely gone, and the realization was a rush of power like no other.
I gave in to the inevitable and slid off his lap. He followed me up and I used his grasp on my wayward hand to guide him towards my bedroom. Or at least that is what I intended to do. I had completely forgotten about Mr. Bubblehead, and my knees turned to pain-filled jelly the moment he touched the ground.
Fortunately for me, Dylan is far more graceful and efficient than I am. Moving with me, he used my downward fall to yet again sweep me off my feet while I continued my brilliant rendition of a classic damsel in distress. It was becoming a habit with us.
Time seemed to stand still, each of us fighting to regain our composure in a bid to pretend nothing had gone wrong. Unfortunately for me, Dylan is quicker to recover than I am. “Slow down there, Tweety Bird. I know you’re eager, but surely we can spare a moment to get you to bed in one piece?” His voice was gruff, still filled with desire but far more composed than I could ever hope to be, even after a few moments of awkward silence in which to recover.
The light teasing in his tone brought a flush of embarrassment to my cheeks. The sheer indignity of the entire situation was a hard pill to swallow and I mentally cursed Mr. Bubblehead’s very existence. It should have been a perfect seduction yet there I was embarrassed yet again while my wet dream laughed at me, far too composed for my own liking.
“Come now, Tweety Bird, don’t sulk.” His laughter faded away when he noticed the expression on my face and he shifted me in his arms. He then took a moment to nuzzle my hair and turned towards my bedroom. Without another he word, he confidently carried me to my own bedroom and placed me down onto my still-ruffled sheets. Not even pausing to give me time to process what was happening, he leaned down and captured my lips, this time taking control of the kiss in order to return the exploration I had subjected him to in the living room. Just as I was about to lose myself completely to the slightly coarse texture of his tongue, he sat up to pull his blue polo neck off. The moment the shirt was off, he reached toward my bedside table and promptly gave me the best lesson in embarrassment I have ever been subjected to.
This is the part I don’t exactly want to talk about, but for the sake of accuracy, I guess we will, unfortunately, be going there. You see, as Dylan reached toward my bedside table he tensed, for a moment dead still. That is when I realized I had forgotten something there. The moment he recovered enough to move, he turned to me and raised an eyebrow, damned amusement sparkling in his eyes. “You have a dildo?” He dangled the bright, neon-green piece of incriminating evidence before me.
I was absolutely mortified, but even when mortified I can pull a sarcastic comment or two out of my repertoire. “It’s not exactly a cucumber, now is it?” I wasn’t about to admit that it was the only source of action I’d received in a long time. Two years, in fact. I hadn’t slept with anyone since I broke up with the only other person I ever let touch me. Tyler wasn’t the most monogamous of guys, and I had the privilege of finding that out the day he told me he’d contracted AIDS. The next six months were the worst six months of my life, but we won’t be going there. I’m clean and that chapter in my life is long since over.
It didn’t occur to me to ask Dylan if he too was clean. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy that would mess around just for the hell of it, and even if he did, he’d already proven he was far too logical to be stupid about it. Anal retentive and unprotected sex don’t really go hand in hand, now do they? Besides, he intended to use protection.
“No, it isn’t a cucumber,” Dylan agreed, leaning in to nip at my bottom lip. “A cucumber wouldn’t be half as fun.” He trailed the hard plastic tip down my chest towards my belly, slowly circling it when he got there. The sight of a hand other than my own on the toy caused my ass to clench, my muscles eager to be stretched and filled, but he wasn’t done teasing me yet. “But first things first….” He palmed my erection and nibbled on my lip again. “Condoms and lube.”
“Top… drawer….” It was my turn to be reduced to single word responses, pants filled with want interrupting any effort at coherent speech.
His hum vibrated against my skin, testifying to just how close our bodies were, before he once more withdrew, tearing another whimper from my throat. “I’ll be right back, Tweety Bird.” He ran a soothing hand over my chest. As he brushed over my nipples I arched into his hand, my skin burning for more of that touch. I was so lost in the sensation of it that I barely even noticed when his other hand returned, both now drifting down to pull my sweatpants off. Mr. Bubblehead didn’t even give him pause, and he soon had me completely naked.
The moment my sweatpants were off, he straddled me and thrust his still-clothed erection against mine. His hands left my skin and moved to unbutton his jeans. He drew the motion out, watching me with every movement he made, and I could have died a happy man, right there and then. He embodied every fantasy I had ever had.
The moment he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, his penis sprang free, the tip already slick with moisture. That is the moment I chose to pounce. Sitting up, I grabbed hold of it and fisted it, thrusting my hand aggressively up and down the hard pulsing flesh.
Obviously not about to be outdone, he pushed me back down with a growl but left my hand where it was. He thrust his hips into my grasp and bit down on my shoulder, the pain of it causing me to arch into him once more. While I was still lost in the strange sense of pleasure that quickly followed the pain, he slid two slick fingers deep into me, effectively killing any hope of logical thought I may have had.
The invasion didn’t hurt. My body drew his fingers in with ease and I pushed down onto them, seeking that elusive pleasure I knew was coming. He, however, had other plans. Reaching down, he held my hips in place and took control of the motion, rapidly twisting and scissoring his fingers. It was sheer ecstasy and torment, all rolled into one, because I wanted it and wanted more.
Just as he was about to brush against my prostate, he pulled his fingers out, leaving me empty. Frustration and disappointment coursed through me as I was once again denied. Unable to bear it any more I lifted my hands, clenched them, and slammed them back down onto the bed, an aggressive snarl escaping my lips. I would not be denied. Not after all the teasing.
I moved, fully intending to return the mark he left upon my shoulder, only I didn’t quite get that far. The moment I moved to bite him, he slid my dildo into me, and the sudden invasion of that cold, hard object floored me. I dropped back down onto my bed with a cry and arched up once more, the angle of penetration an entirely new experience now that it wasn’t my own hand doing the thrusting.
In another blow to my masculine pride, it only took him a few moments to have me begging for more. His strokes were firm and sure and every thrust of the dildo deep into me hit my prostate dead on. The hard plastic filled
me over and over again, quickly heated by both the friction and my skin, and all too soon I felt the beginning of the end. My balls began to tingle and I could feel my orgasm rising, only to find out he still wasn’t done with me.
“Not yet, my little bird,” he whispered, his hot breath once more tickling my ear. “Not like this.” He withdrew the dildo, and my balls pulsed in protest. I wanted to cry at the loss, but at the same time, I wanted more, just like he did. My body was hot and wet, slick with sweat, cum, and lube, and I wanted to be claimed in the most intimate way possible.
He tore open a condom, sheathing himself in it before reaching for the lube, pouring a generous amount into his hand. Tossing the lube to the side, he hastily spread the slick substance over the condom with a deep-throated groan, the very sound of it tinged with lust and hunger.
The moment he was done, he grabbed hold of my legs and pushed them towards my head, exposing me fully for penetration. My asshole fluttered in anticipation, and I reached up to part myself open even further, pulling my ass cheeks as far apart as I could while folded over almost double upon my own bed. Another growl escaped his throat and then he thrust deep into me, every bit as aggressive as when he’d used the dildo.
I cried out and dropped my hands. I clenched the sheets as pain once again flared through me with a vengeance. Although I was stretched and ready, he was bigger than I anticipated, and the sudden penetration caused my muscles to burn and clamp, waves of tension coursing throughout my body.
“Relax, Tweety.” His strange nickname for me drained some of the tension from my body. “I’ll take care of you.” He licked the sensitive part beneath my ear, successfully distracting me from the pain of suddenly being filled by an object considerably bigger than I was used to, and gently rocked his hips into me.
