Decades

The Morning After

Lindsey hadn't had a single drink last night, but he still woke up feeling hungover. He stayed in bed a bit longer than usual, which was unlike him. But, after how ridiculous he'd behaved last night, facing the world, especially Stevie, didn't seem like his best move. He had to make things better today. He really should get up and put a pot of coffee on.

As he lay there in bed, he thought he heard some stirring in Stevie's room. She was awake far earlier than usual. He hoped she hadn't decided to pack up and leave after his unhinged behavior last night. He needed to make amends quickly. It would be too easy to splinter the fragile truce they'd been living under.

Suddenly, while considering his next move, he overheard that now recognizable buzz and wanted to suffocate himself with his own pillow. She'd apparently gone to bed horny and was waking up horny too. "Nice to know some things never change," he chuckled.

He'd been up half the night picturing her alone in that room with her velvet bag of toys. He wondered if she just lay on her back and fucked herself with that dildo. Or did she penetrate herself with it while using the vibe on her clit? Was it a two-handed operation? He tried to puzzle it out.

He knew what she used to like when he was the one responsible for her orgasms. She'd run her fingers through his hair and throw her head back, offering him her neck to kiss. He knew she liked having attention on her g-spot and her clit simultaneously. Lindsey's fingers, paired with his mouth or with his cock were adept at getting her to where she wanted to be.

The thing that always brought her to the brink was seeing Lindsey's overwhelming desire for her. He had no idea that though his mechanics were flawless, it was the rawness of his emotions and his love and sometimes hate for her that took her over the edge. Seeing that she dominated his thoughts made her want him to dominate her body.

He imagined her fucking herself right now. The buzzing next door made it impossible to think of anything else. He wanted to break down her door and throw that fake cock out of the window and fuck her himself. She deserved more than a battery-operated orgasm.

While he knew this was a ridiculous thought, the whole thing felt like a rejection to Lindsey. He was right there. They were always dynamic and creative as a musical pairing, but even more so when they were naked. She knew damned well he was always available. He'd written Secondhand News for this very reason, for Christ's sake. Did she just not want him the way he'd always wanted her?

He felt like a big perv, but he was straining to hear what was going on over there. He pictured her putting the suction end of the dildo on the straight-backed chair in her room and straddling it, rolling her hips, and rubbing her clit with the small vibe.

But as he listened, he didn't think that was it since he heard the bed creaking slightly again. She could be riding it in the bed. Or, his cock hardened as he considered it, she could be on all fours, backed up to it, it suctioned to her headboard.

God, he wanted to watch her so badly. He could imagine her biting her bottom lip and throwing her head back in ecstasy the way he'd seen her do so many times when he was behind her and gathered up her long locks, wrapped them around his fist, and pulled her hair back towards him while he thrust into her hard and fast. He felt himself throbbing at the thought. And finally, he heard what must have been Stevie's release coming in those familiar throaty moans.

He resisted the nearly impossible urge to go to her. He walked, instead, to the shower and ran the coldest, most uncomfortable shower possible and stepped in. Everything about this was torture.