by Hazel Jacobs
The moment that they’re flush against one another, Tommy gives Sersha a moment to adjust. She’s glad, because it’s been a while, and furious because she can feel pleasure already starting to flood her again. Tommy uses the time they’re waiting to play with her nipple again, capturing her mouth with another kiss so that she doesn’t scream and wake his family.
When the moment is over, Tommy pulls out only to slam back in, keeping Sersha’s mouth busy and his hands on her hips, angling them so that his pelvic bone slams into her clitoris and makes her see stars. The music pumps out a regular, fast-tempo beat and Tommy times his thrusts to that they move with the music. Sersha scratches at Tommy’s back. He shivers as her fingers dig into him.
“That’s good,” he mutters against her lips. He hips never pause as he continues thrusting into her in time with the beat. “Show me you like it, Sersha, I want to feel you for days. Leave marks so that I never forget you.”
Sersha pushes her hips up to meet his, taking him in deeper, but it’s not enough. Sersha feels like she’s chasing a hurricane, knowing that it will probably take her apart if she reaches it, but so caught up in the high of the adrenaline that she can’t bring herself to care. She’ll happily let the man above her and inside of her tear her apart as long as he keeps going.
The song changes again. There’s a moment when the stereo is silent and all Sersha can hear is the sound of wet slaps and gasping breath. She realizes that Tommy is moaning into her ear, and that she’s moaning as well, and then the music starts again and drowns out those tiny, inconsequential sounds. Sersha wants to write a song to their beat. Maybe she will, when she can think straight again.
Tommy keeps pounding into her, but Sersha wants more. She pushes him onto his back. He allows it, but his hands still grip her and he doesn’t stop kissing her. Now sitting in his lap with his cock deep inside of her, Sersha places her hands on his chest and scratches down. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave long red lines. Tommy tips his head back, lets out a deep groan that she can feel vibrating through her. His exposed neck is taut and strained and the muscles in his arms are working hard as he helps her move her hips up and down and around.
Every new angle makes him more and more beautiful. Whatever their relationship is now, Sersha will never forget the way he’d looked above her, the way he looks now beneath her. Blissed out, his lips turned up in a full smile, like he’s having the time of his life. She remembers how furious he’d been when he found out that Bass Note had hired a lyricist. How his lips were permanently turned down in a sad sort of frown. The look on his face is entirely different. He looks like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be than right there, beneath her.
Her breasts bounce a little painfully. Tommy seems to sense that because his hands come up to hold them, his thumbs brushing her nipples with each movement, making her squirm even harder on his lap. She grinds on him, enjoying the depth and the width and the near-constant pressure on her clit. It’s like her whole world has melted down and focussed on the space between her legs and the sight of his eyes boring into hers.
“Keep your eyes on me,” she tells him, grinning. “I want my face to be what you see when you’re coming.”
He grins back. He gets the joke. Sersha thrusts a few more times and feels her second orgasm take her. She digs her nails into his chest and Tommy holds her hips for her, moving her on top of him, giving her everything he has. When her moans quiet and she falls forward, leaning against his chest and kissing him deeply, Tommy wraps his arms around her and thrusts up, pounding hard, until he reaches his own climax. It’s much quieter than hers. He doesn’t grunt or moan, on the contrary, he bites his lip, his breath stops and his whole body tenses, until Sersha feels the warm, sticky heat of him fill her completely.
They both lay together, enjoying the aftermath. Sersha’s mind is racing, and yet it’s blissfully blank. There are questions that need answering, but she feels as though she’s looking at them written at the bottom of a pond.
They’ll keep until tomorrow, she thinks.
Her head rises and falls with Tommy’s chest. There’s a calm in the room as the music switches to the next song again, and Sersha knows that she should get up and wash herself off, but she’s too content to move. She just closes her eyes and listens to the steady thump of Tommy’s heart beneath her ear.
Sersha rolls over the next morning and gasps in pain when her hair pulls.
“Shit,” she mutters as she rolls back onto her side and turns her head to see what’s laying on her.
Oh. Right.
Lying beside her is Tommy, his mouth half-open, his face pressed into the pillow, his shoulder on a tuft of her hair. Sersha wants to laugh at the picture he makes, but she also desperately has to pee and brush her teeth.
Their clothes are scattered on the floor. Sersha can see the cool light of dawn creeping in through the one window in the room. The stereo, which Tommy had turned off last night just as they’d begun to drowse together, is a little crooked on the bedside table and Sersha realizes that they must have knocked it at some point. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about it, but she understands in a distant way that she probably should be. That at some point during their lovemaking one of them had hit the stereo with a foot or a hand and not even noticed.
She gently pulls her hair—wild and tangled, as she knew it would be—out from underneath the sleeping man and quietly rolls out of bed. She watches him to make sure that she doesn’t wake him. He sleeps through it all.
The basement has an ensuite bathroom, which Tommy and his brother had apparently installed themselves in some home renovation project when they were in their early teens. Despite the fact that it had been built by boys, it seems nice. The shower is huge and could probably fit Black Lilith inside comfortably. There’s a long mirror on the wall, the tiles are red and black, and the toilet is shoved hard up next to the sink, as though the brothers had almost forgotten about it and nearly run out of room.
Sersha walks over to the toilet, wincing. Her thighs ache and her groin feels stretched and sore, and when she’s done on the toilet she doesn’t get up right away. There’s some light bruises of finger marks on her pale thighs that she traces. She sits there, naked, and tries to comprehend what happened last night.
We had sex, her mind helpfully offers. She wants to smack herself.
They’d had sex, and now Sersha has to deal with whatever consequences that will bring.
Will Tommy expect her to forget that it ever happened?
Will he expect them to fall into some kind of friends with benefits situation?
Tommy had been pretty adamant last night that he doesn’t want to get back together with Danielle. That’s a comforting thought and goes a long way to easing Sersha’s anxiety over the situation. But then, she reminds herself, not wanting to get back together with your ex is not the same as having moved on.
But then, she remembers the way that he’d kissed her, the way he’d sworn up and down that he wanted her and he wasn’t using her. That’s not the sort of thing people do when they’re just fooling around, right? Tommy wouldn’t go to that much trouble for a quick lay, would he?
Sersha sighs. It’s cold in the bathroom and her nipples are starting to get hard. She glances down and sees that they’re still a little bit red from their treatment last night, and she smirks to herself. Tommy had been… surprising. Everything she could have hoped. The soreness in the morning is well worth it. She now knows that convincing him into light bondage would not be as difficult a task as she’d originally thought. If they decide to keep this up.
As Sersha sits there and daydreams about everything they did last night she feels herself getting aroused again. So she stands up, flushes the toilet, and after staring at her reflection in the mirror for a moment—bird’s nest hair? Check. Smudged makeup? Check—she borrows Tommy’s toothbrush. Then she looks appraisingly at the shower, then down to her naked body, and decides that since
she’s already naked anyway so she might as well get clean. She’s still covered in sweat and other bodily fluids that are less pleasant in the light of day.
Turning on the shower, Sersha waits for a moment for it to heat up before climbing inside. Tommy’s Axe soap sits on the shower floor. She opens it and gives it a sniff. It smells like Tommy, in a vague sort of way. Tommy’s never really had a scent, at least not one that she’s picked up on. He smells clean and fresh, like a morning in spring. He smells like promise. This Axe soap smells like what boys think turns girls on. Sersha pours some onto her hand and rubs it into her skin.
The shower door opens behind her.
“Need someone to do your back?” Tommy asks.
Sersha doesn’t spin around, though she’s glad that her hair is wet now so he doesn’t have to be subjected to her morning bed head. She looks over her shoulder and grins at him.
“If you’re offering?” she says, handing him the soap.
Tommy’s hair is a mess as well—an adorable, floppy mess. His eyes look tired but he’s smiling at her. His bare ripped chest with its soft, dark hair still has scratches on it, and the sight of them sends heat pooling in Sersha’s groin.
Taking the soap from her, Tommy pours some onto his hands and proceeds to give her a back massage.
“Tommy,” she says, and it comes out as a moan, because of course, he gives great back rubs. The man is apparently a blessing sent from the gods.
He kisses and nips the back of her neck, moving closer to her so he can get a little bit under the spray from the shower as well. “Morning,” he says, kissing her again.
“Indeed,” she replies when she feels his erection pressing against her ass.
Tommy’s still-soapy hands reach around to grip her breasts, massaging them as well, and Sersha lets her head roll back so that it’s resting on his shoulder. Tommy pulls one of his hands away from her and holds it under the spray long enough to clean the soap off before reaching down to rub at her clit.
Sersha’s body goes tense immediately. Both of her hands grip his wrists. She holds him close, pressing her hips forward, grinding against his finger, and by the time he’s sliding a finger inside of her she’s on the brink.
“Keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Fuck… don’t stop…”
Her words become a mantra and Tommy obeys, rubbing at her and plunging a finger inside of her until she’s groaning, shuddering, and leaning heavily against him as the waves of pleasure ebb and flow inside of her.
Tommy lets her take a moment to lean against him before pulling his fingers out of her. She keens at the loss until she feels him grab her wrists and push her forward until her hands are against the slippery tile wall and her ass is presented to him.
“No unsolicited attempts at rear entry,” she says. Her voice is slurred as she’s still riding the waves of her orgasm.
Tommy chuckles, his breath hot against the back of Sersha’s neck. “Another time, then,” he says.
He lines himself up and plunges into her without ceremony. Sersha lets out a soft whine, her muscles contracting and still sore, but she can’t help but smile as she feels him enter her. Last night she’d been almost too blissed out, too focused on feeling him to really appreciate it. Like someone at a banquet stuffing food in their mouth because they need to get as much as they can, and it’s only at the second or third course that they start to savor the taste.
Tommy is thick and fills her well. From this angle, the head of him brushes against her G-spot, which Sersha knows will be the death of her. He takes a moment to let her adjust and, at her nod, thrusts deep. His fingers dig bruises into her pale skin. He thrusts over and over, pushing so that Sersha really has to use the wall to steady herself, his hands playing with her nipples the way he knows she likes it.
“Faster,” she mutters, meaning… well, she isn’t sure what she means. Whether it’s the hands or the penis, something needs to happen faster.
Tommy, being the asshole that he is, does the exact opposite. His hips still, his long musician’s fingers flex against her, and he kisses her neck so that she shivers.
“Shh,” he says. “There’s no music to drown you out, now.”
The water is still running, but her gasps had been echoing in the tiny confined space. She can only imagine how they sound from outside.
“Do you think they hear us?” she asks incredulously.
She feels him shrug against her. “So long as you're quiet…” he says, “…they won't even notice we’re awake.”
A soft whimper is Sersha’s only response because that sounds like a challenge, and she arches her back to press against his damp firm chest, seeking relief from the heat still building inside of her. She bucks her hips back against Tommy’s, feeling him move in her and making herself gasp. When she reaches down to touch herself…
“Stop,” Tommy growls into her ear. His hands drop from her breasts to her hips, restraining her. “Don’t touch yourself until I tell you to,” he says. The command is punctuated with a harsh thrust that makes Sersha gasp and yelp and nod all at once.
His fingers dig into her as he pushes her against the tiled wall and Sersha shivers as she’s pushed out of the way of the water so that her wet skin has nothing but steam and Tommy’s body to keep her warm. He thrusts into her over and over, the sound of his wet slaps sounding even wetter in the cubicle. The pressure on her G-spot isn’t enough. Heat coils in the pit of her stomach, but she can’t feel her release beckoning.
“Tommy,” she says. “Touch me, for fuck’s sake.”
In the reflection of the tiles, she can just make out his smirk. He reaches up to push her hair out of the way and licks the back of her neck and Sersha tries to increase the speed of her own bucking hips, desperate and wanting.
“Okay?” Tommy asks.
“Wonderful,” Sersha replies. It sounds shaky. She grabs his other hand off her hip and presses it down. “But here would be better.”
He lets out a huff of laughter against her skin. He uses two damp fingers to rub her clit in short circles, thrusting to some unheard beat, and her moans echo around them. He reaches around with the other hand and turns her chin to pull her into a kiss.
As their tongues meet, his fingers speed up and Sersha comes undone. Her knees weaken and her hands slip, but Tommy holds her up.
“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from the kiss as Sersha bucks her hips against his fingers, riding out her orgasm and riding him at the same time. Tommy buries his flushed face against her shoulder, right over her tattoo. “Jesus, Sersha, slow down.”
But instead, Sersha works her hips back and forth, thrusting and pulling, timing it so that the squeezing of her contracting muscles makes Tommy’s body tense. He grabs her hips and thrusts hard into her, riding out the last of his pleasure with a strained growl that not only echoes through the shower cubicle, it echoes through Sersha’s entire body. She feels him shudder and spend, then feels the semen dribbling out of her, only to be washed away by the shower. She can hear their labored breathing over the sound of the water falling.
“Fuck,” Tommy says.
They stay like that for a moment, Sersha still with her hands against the wall and her legs spread, Tommy bent over her. Finally, when his penis slips out of her, Sersha turns around and pulls Tommy into a kiss that he eagerly reciprocates.
“You want me to get your back?” she asks.
He laughs. It echoes around the shower, and it’s probably the best noise she’s heard all morning.
“Next tour stop is the Streamy Awards in LA,” Tommy says as he scrapes butter over his toast and takes a big bite. “You’re coming, right?”
They’re in the kitchen, clean and sated, enjoying the calm of the early morning before his mother and brother get up. Sersha’s always been a morning person, and she’s delighted to see that Tommy is too. She’s got one headphone in her ear playing Hozier’s ‘From Eden’ while she listens to Tommy talk. The combination of beautiful, haunting lyrics and
the sight of Tommy’s still-damp hair makes her giddy.
“I wasn’t sure,” Sersha replies. She’s got her own toast and jam on a plate in front of her and a glass of orange juice at her elbow. She’s wearing the same clothes she’d worn yesterday, but she still feels clean. She and Tommy had been in the shower that morning long enough to slough off even the most stubborn dirt. “It’s a long way to go for a concert. It was different in Central Park, you know?” That’s basically down the road.
Tommy swallows. Sersha is briefly distracted by the sight of his throat working.
“I was hoping you’d be my date.”
Sersha is glad that she isn’t taking a sip of juice, or she might have choked. She’d hoped that Tommy would want to make their relationship official, but she’d assumed that it would take some time. That she would have to bring it up herself and maybe even co-opt Slate into warming Tommy up for her. Because Slate may not have made the trains stop working, but Sersha’s not an idiot—he sent her to Tommy’s house yesterday hoping that she and Tommy would wind up spending time together.
Tommy has been doing casual flings ever since he and Danielle broke up. Sex with groupies is very different to maintaining a real relationship. And considering that his last relationship ended so badly, she wouldn’t blame him if it took him a while to learn to trust again.
Her silence seems to have lasted too long, because Tommy looks away.
“Or, you know, if you don’t want to—”
“Yes!” Sersha says quickly. She whips the earphone out so that she can focus entirely on Tommy. His eyes turn back to her and she’s delighted to see that he’s grinning at her. “Fucking yes, Tommy. I’ll be your date.”
“Great,” he says. Sersha wonders if her own smile is as goofy and wide as his is. “That’s great.”
“Sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting you to ask me out so soon.”
Tommy leans across the table and kisses her on the lips. It’s a sweet, lingering kiss, so different from Tommy’s bedroom persona, but Sersha feels that kiss like a warm blanket wrapping around her shoulders or a jumper straight out of the dryer. He’s so warm and still damp from the shower and happy. It makes Sersha want to coil around him and cuddle for hours.
