Mikey and the Chickadee

Chapter 6 - Part 2

"It is so fucking hot in here." He went over to his bedroom area and cranked open a long, slim window near the ceiling that ran the top length of another large window by the bed. He also opened a narrow door at the foot of the bed that I had not noticed before, which led out to a small balcony. "If we hang out over here it'll be a lot cooler."

I climbed up onto his double bed with him, which, like mine, had been raised up on stilts so that items could be stored underneath. We lay side by side, looking up at the ceiling for a couple of minutes without saying anything. The cool air that poured over the metal lip of the vent window was as soothing as he had promised. Eventually I tilted my head to the right, watching Mikey's chest rise and fall. He still wore a rather formal white button-down but had untucked it from his pants. The untextured fabric rose up to cloak his pectoral muscles and descended to his slim waist.

He said softly, "I like that we can be quiet like this. It's nice to think that if there's nothing left to say, silence can be comfortable. It's not like that with everybody."

"I know what you mean," I said.

"Not that we need to be quiet. Loud is good, too. We could shout if we wanted—hey, give me something to shout."

"What? I can't think of anything."

Verbatim, Mikey yelled out the words I had just said, jolting me back to full alertness.

I laughed. "Quit it."

He yelled that, too, his voice slamming against the ceiling and every wall in the apartment.

I clapped my hand over his mouth and he tore it away.

"I won't be silenced," he boomed, a gigantic grin spreading across his face. He held my arm down at my side and wrestled his way on top of me.

I locked my arms around his torso and rolled both of us back to his side of the bed, so that I now lay on top of him.

He struggled for only a few seconds before overpowering me and I found myself on my back once again.

"Okay," I said, "I give up. You're stronger." I relaxed my muscles and let the weight of him sink slowly into me.

"I'm not," said Mikey. He offered a minor thrust, pressing his waist into mine, and I felt that he was becoming hard. I thrust back. He lifted himself up to a sitting position, still straddling me, and unbuttoned his shirt. "It's still so hot and this shirt is way too restrictive."

"Maybe I should join you." I began tearing through my own buttons.

"Yes please," he said. He pulled off his cotton undershirt, tugging it up over his head, and helped me to remove mine. I only had a few seconds to observe his dark, bare chest, which towered above me, appearing more substantial than ever. He lowered himself back down so that our naked skin could meet, and already I felt a cool dampness from the sweat shared between us. Mikey wrapped his arms around me and gave another thrust, firm and definite. I countered and we began to grind up against one another, his pronounced hardness sliding repeatedly over mine through our pants. I was not only aroused, but fully stimulated by the motion. I felt his fingers grip the skin of my back, trapped slightly under my weight as he continued to grate his body into mine.

"Fuck. This is hot," he said. "If we keep going like this, I'm not going to last."

"Keep going," I said.

He pressed on, increasing only slightly in intensity before I could feel the entire nature of his movement adjust slightly. "This is it," he said. "I can't stop it. Oh, fuck."

My consideration for the brutality of his heft pounding into me, the animalistic physicality of him that had advanced into immediate, natural release, and that I had brought this about in him—all of it sent me directly over the edge and I discovered myself climaxing just as he announced his own arrival, so that both of us released at once, coming wildly against one another, into our underwear.