Taking My Time
The most amazing thing has happened this evening.
For the first time in too long, our schedules have lined up perfectly to see each other before the sun sets.
So even though we’re both fucking exhausted, we both seem to willing to sacrifice some rest time in order to breathe the same air today.
Of course, it doesn’t run perfectly smoothly. That would be a little too convenient. You end up stuck at work a little longer than you’d anticipated; I arrive on your doorstep not minutes after you get home.
My arms are full of provisions for our epic meal when I first walk in—I wasn’t held up leaving the office and had time to collect some of the things we’d need for a proper night in. So it’s not until I drop everything in the kitchen that I can greet you properly.
I turn to find you already within arms’ reach. We’re moving reflexively in towards one another before I even start to say, “Hey.” Your chin is hooked on my shoulder by the time you offer the soft exhale of a “hey” in return.
Your embrace hasn’t changed much over time; that is to say that it’s always been warm and deliberate. I can only assume that you hold everyone you care about with the same soft fierceness, and that thought alone makes me smile a little wider every time I’m wrapped up in you.
Your arms are strong, but they seem to be holding you up as much as they’re holding me in. There is a weariness about you today, which doesn’t surprise me at all—you’ve been going so hard for so long. I don’t speak. I just hold you there, feeling the press of your chest into mine as you breathe deeply; until you’re ready to move.
You punctuate our release with a soft squeeze, but with my hands resting on your shoulders, I don’t let you pull away completely. “How are you doing?” I ask.
“Good, good. Just…” You look somewhere past me, to the floor as you try to hide your fatigue and search for the rest of your answer. “Kind of tired. It was a long day.”
“It’s been a long season.”
“Yeah… And I literally just got home so… do you... mind if take a quick shower?”
“Obviously, I don’t mind.”
“Great. Thank you. I’ll be quick.”
“Please, take all the time you need.”
Just as you’re about to pull away, you stop as if you’ve just noticed something that you didn’t realize was there, and really look at me.
I cock my head. “What?”
Your hand moves up—it had been resting on my hip all this time—to caress my neck and you hold me steady as you lean in. Then you shrug and say, “Nothing,” like you didn’t just kiss me on the mouth.
My stomach barely has time the flip back before you’re beelining to your bedroom.
I’m still standing there in the kitchen with the pad of my thumb pressed to my dumb grin when you re-emerge, with only a towel wrapped hastily to cover you from the waist down. Adorably modest, and reminiscent of times past, before I started to give your body a second thought. You flash a quick smile at me as you close the bathroom door behind you.
I laugh to myself and look around, deciding whether I want to start sorting out the groceries or just crack a beer and wait for you. I’m not hungry yet nor am I in any rush, so the beer wins out.
In the time it takes me to sit down on the couch and take my first sip, I’ve changed my mind. I make my way to your bedroom instead.
The fleeting thought of joining you in the shower crosses my mind as I walk by the bathroom door. Not as a literal consideration, mind you. Today is not the day to start learning how to navigate such a precarious little space together. That’s a lot of work for a novelty that, even if well executed, will leave me looking a lot less cute for the rest of the night. But the idea that it could happen one day is nice in and of itself.
Perched on the side of your bed, legs dangling over the edge, I scan the room. It’s far from my first time in here by now, yet somehow I always to find something I hadn’t noticed before if I take the time to look. That makes me smile too.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about having the luxury of taking my time with you. I want to learn how your body reacts to this touch and that breath and this pressure and that stroke and this tug and that delay. I want to lick you from soft to hard and back again. I want to feel the full spectrum of your dimensions on my tongue. I want to know what you taste like on the inside.
I really don’t know yet what your feelings on blowjobs are though. This is still new; we haven't found our language yet and I don’t want to be too presumptuous. Not everyone loves oral sex, and I get that. Though I’d be a little disappointed, I understand too well not wanting to merely tolerate mediocre mouth action.
From what I’ve observed so far, I suspect, however, that the opposite is true. That perhaps my skills are a little too good. That you’ve feared I’ll end you before we can make it to the other parts that we’ve been so enjoying together.
I get about a quarter of the way through my beer when the shower’s stream, along with my daydreaming, is drowned out by silence.
While you shuffle around in your little steam chamber, I readjust myself on the bed, trying to put myself into a position that conveys a 'casual but sexy' vibe to feign the confidence I’m trying to channel in order to be a little bolder than usual.
You don’t drop your towel, but you do start when you come in to find me sitting on your bed.
“Oh, my god, you’re right there.”
“Ticklish and jumpy?” I joke. “Maybe we have more in common than I thought.”
You humor me with a laugh and a sheepish head shake.
“Why don’t you come in.” I have no idea when your roommate will be home, but just in case I add, “and close the door behind you.”
I don’t make the joke about you being a good boy when you oblige me, because even sarcastic condescension might not help my case right now.
“So, I’ve been thinking…” I might seem like I know what I’m doing and have this seduction thing on lock, but I have no idea what I’m going to say so I’m just stalling with long ‘sultry’ pauses.
You step deeper into the room. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for me to take in your fresh-cleaned scent now.
“Oh yeah?” you say. Standing there, fist still clutching the bundle of your towel at the level of your hipbone, you run your free hand through your hair. You seem patient enough despite the fact that you’re pretty damp and mostly naked in the middle of your own bedroom. “About what?”
Before I can derail myself, I say matter-of-factly, “Sucking your cock, it seems.”
You’re trying to play it cool, but I can hear the dip in your tone when you repeat, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I've also been thinking about how exhausted you must be right now, given how busy you've been lately…”
I reach my hand out to you, inviting you to step in closer. Again, you oblige me. When you get close enough, I pull you right in, fitting you between my spread knees, and rest my hands on your hips.
“It’s uh…?” You clear your throat and start again. “It's been a lot, yeah.”
“Yeah. And with you so tired and,” I look you up and down, “vulnerable right now… I was thinking it might be a perfect time for me to take advantage of you.”
The floorboards creak slightly when you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
“You might be right.”
“How do you feel,” I’m gesturing to the bed as I speak, “about allowing me to take a little time with you before I let you get dressed?”
“I feel like…” you lick your bottom lip and bite down on it, realizing you have no clever retort prepared for that one, “I might be okay with that.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
I try to steal a kiss, but you give it to me all too willingly. My eyes stay closed on their own while our tongues practice their dance moves, so my hand runs blindly down the sides of your legs to squeeze you in just a little closer. Even through the towel, I can feel that you’re already a little excited by my proposal.
A satisfied smile tugs at the corners of my mouth until I nearly bite your bottom lip, just before I stand up and give you a push—gentle but firm—away and down onto the bed.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
I slink out the door and close it softly behind me. My heart is pounding in my ears and between my legs in equal measure, a combination of excitement and nerves. The compounded anxiety of trying something new, fearing the rejection despite the high likelihood of your assent, and having scored exactly what I wanted is a curious cocktail of sensation.
I take a couple of deep breaths while I fill a glass of water in the kitchen. My inner walls clamp in spontaneously on themselves at the top of each exhale. I sneak my free hand up under the hem of my dress and press to the seam of my underwear; I hold my pulse in the palm of my hand and smile.
When I come back to the room, you’re lying on your back, still wrapped loosely in your towel. The space smells like summer dust and body wash and something inherently you. As I close the door and turn back to you, I find your gaze and we do that thing that people do sometimes when they like each other enough to want to start the moment over again. Soft smiles, softer eyes, and a mirrored exchange like we’re seeing each other for the first time: “Hi.” — “Hi.”
I put the glass of water on the side table and tour around to the foot of the bed, taking a moment to appreciate you from where I stand.
Again, you’ve always been a babe, but you’ve been looking particularly good since… well, since that first night I found myself giving you a closer look, when things took this turn to wherever it is that we are now. You must have found that barber you were looking for because you’re grooming game has been on point every time I see you. Not that it’s all about the looks. You've got plenty more than that to offer. But I feel like it’s worth noting: you look damn fine right now.
I reach out to trace the light peppering of hair across your chest, down the long lines of your strong forearms, carved by years of honing your craft. Any doubts I had in myself are melting away; my confidence is growing with every stroke. I inadvertently lick my lip and find your gaze. You don’t quite look right at me as you look down the length of yourself to the foot of the bed, but your eyelids are hooded — one of yours tells that betrays your arousal.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.” I lean over just far enough to tug at the end of your towel and pull the flap open, baring you to me.
“Fuck,” I say it more to myself than you. “Look at you…”
I like that I’m still fully clothed and (mostly) dry while you’re naked here in front of me. In part, because I relish in the little rush of power I get out of it, but also because there’s something beautiful about you trusting me to care for you in such an open, vulnerable state. Even one as simple as this.
I crawl up onto the bed now, stalking my way up your exposed torso, letting the fabric of my dress drag along your thighs, over the length your blood-heavy shaft, up the front of your body until I line my chest up with yours.
“Come here.” Your voice is breathy, a little strained in your throat as you reach your face up towards mine.
But I hover just out of mouth’s reach. “Hush,” I press one palm to your chest and push you back down into the mattress without giving you what you asked for. “Don’t rush me,” I add, with a little more confidence.
You grunt through your nose—somewhere between frustration and relief, maybe?—as you relinquish the last of your control to me and nod your assent. “Okay, fine,” you say with a smile and melt into the pillow.
I can't resist this time. “Good boy,” I say and kiss you just behind your ear. I feel the slight shudder of approval that runs through your body when I do. Straddling you, I sit up to full height. As I stretch my arms above my head like I’m just waking up now, you thump up into the heat radiating from inside me.
“Mmm…” I breathe all the way out and drag my hands down the sides of your torso. I feel you tense pre-emptively as I flirt dangerously close to an ultra-sensitive, ticklish spot. Don’t worry—I can be wicked, but I’m not that ruthless. “This is going to be fun.”
Bowing over you, I plant a garden of kisses down your neck, along your clavicle. I feel the tension of your day start to slip away, replaced by something more anticipatory as I wriggle my way back to nestle myself between your legs and find more room to move around.
I take my time. I have all the time in the world for this; the sun is still up, only adding to the glow you tend to have about you, even though you might be feeling a little dim today.
My nails have grown back, so I can be more precise and varied in how I touch and scratch and rub and squeeze my way up from your knee all the way to the crook of your groin. I feel a smug sense of satisfaction when your cock thumps in protest at my hand hovering right past, and I stifle a soft giggle while I tease up your other side in a similar fashion.
I don’t mean to laugh at you. I can’t help my reaction to how much I enjoy every time you twitch, or inhale a little more sharply, or a rogue smile gets away on you to play across your face.
Your eyes are closed. I’m not sure if it’s because you’re too shy to look at me or if you’re actually letting yourself surrender more deeply to my touch. Either way, you look very peaceful. Though your heart is pounding a little harder—when I hold still I can literally see it throbbing in your neck from here—your breathing has deepened and I can feel you opening up to me. I enjoy that almost as much as I do touching you.
I’m ready to take more from you now.
With my cheek pressed to the inside of your thigh, I breathe on you like I’m gently fogging up a window. I steal another look up at you and press my lips to your skin.
I’m also stalling now because I’m having a hard time trying to figure out how to write this. There’s so much nuance that even I might not have the words to capture.
Maybe it doesn’t need to be so complicated.
The further I take you, the wetter we get. I need you to be slick enough to slide my hand along you with ease. I play with grip and speed and depth, registering how your breath hitches or your spine twitches or your hips clench with each change.
Can you feel that? It sounds like it—I like the soft little moans that creep out of you when the head of your cock slides all the way down the back of my throat with unexpected ease.
In and out, in and out, torturously deep and slow... But I’m already finding it difficult to keep my greed from getting the best of me. I want to savor every taste along the way, but I also really just want to devour you. I tease with soft lips and kitten-licks, worrying at your seams with my tongue until you unravel, until every part of my mouth finds every part of you. Long, flat swipes up, pursed lips back down until I’ve covered you in a base coat of saliva.
I want to feel the power of your release rock through you, into me. I gradually raise the intensity and feel you rise with me. And now, with your fingers all wrapped up in my hair, encouraging me to hold this desired rhythm, I’m losing track of my resolve. Another time, I might swat your hand away and insist you let me challenge you. Right now, I’m very happy to get caught up in learning you.
“Fuck,” you groan just above a whisper, “I’m going to come soon, I—”
My cadence doesn’t waver; I squeeze your thigh in one hand and tug your balls with the other as I suck you just deep enough again, again and again until I urge you over the edge and take every last drop of what you have to offer.
When your grip falls limp, I sit up and wipe the slick from my face with the back of my hand. I reach over you to steal a refreshing sip from my water glass. I'd offer you some, but you can't see me. I think your eyes are closed, though I can’t be sure—you’re hiding them with a forearm draped over your face. Your chest rises and falls as you reclaim your breath and mumble obscenities under it. When I lean back and slip a hand under my dress, I'm met a surge of wet anticipation for all that's yet to come this evening.
If you had any idea how beautiful you are in this moment…
I run my wet finger over your lips. You lick me clean before peeking out from behind your arm at me. My giggle is cut short when you pull me down next to you and nuzzle into me.
You groan softly and nudge your head back into my fingers as I massage your scalp; I love how you melt into even the simplest of my touches.
“My god…” Your muffled words are hot on my skin as your hands start to roam around and between my thighs. “How am I supposed to top that?”
“I’m not sure,” I coo playfully. “Good thing we have all night for you to figure it out.”
More by Queen Jayne:
The Birthday Bash
Comings and Goings
Curry On, My Haywardson
Diamonds and Pearls
The Dinner Date
The Edge of Glory
Expressions of Grief
The Slap Bet
Strangers on a Train