NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY |

60: resin

            Both of us too slick with sweat, Joe slips lower on the bed so that my erection presses into the arch of her spine. Even that contact shoots pleasure through my thus-far neglected nerves and Joe grinds into my hand, desperate for more contact with the toy, as I fall still for a beat.

There's a pretty good chance that Joe is turning me into a sex maniac. I have never in my life had sex with the same person this many times, in this many different ways, and somehow it's still not enough. Whoever said that sex with the same person gets boring couldn't've been more wrong.

Our legs are twined, her back pressed to my chest. The leaf-shaped vibrator is lodged under the heel of my palm as my fingers massage the equally sensitive part of her inside. R&B soul winds around us, harmonised by her moans.

Her eyes are shut which gives me the freedom to drink her in, all of her—not just the way her lips are parted or the intoxicating scent of her need, but the faint scar on her earlobe that I've not noticed before or the crumbs of mascara in the corners of her eyes, somehow gathering even though she took off her makeup before we started.

'You're so perfect.'

The whisper is so quiet it would better be described as a breath but Joe stirs. Her words are just as tangled in air as mine. 'Not at all true.'

The corner of my mouth twitches. 'Are you sure you wanna argue with me right now?'

I can barely start to execute my threat before she clutches my wrist to keep my hand in place. 'No, you're right. I'm perfect.' She blinks to get used to the brightness though the only light comes from the hall, the bedroom door open, and her stare nails into mine. 'Please don't stop.'

I move my free hand to the cliff of her jaw. Joe don't need to be instructed to lean into the support of my arm, and I kiss her. It's too tender of a touch to belong in this moment, but Joe reciprocates it just as gently.

Fact: There's no hope of me surviving this. Fact: I'll have to tell her about my parents soon or Caleb will. Fact: She'll end it. Likely possibility: The pain will kill me. Conclusion: ...Enjoy it while it lasts?

Yes. Enjoy.

Make up for being a liar by helping her as much as I can.

I slot my thumb into the corner of her teeth to keep her from biting off my tongue when I increase the speed of the vibrator. She tries. I force myself to pull away so I can watch ecstasy stitch across her features as she crumbles into my arms. The orgasm shivers across her body in waves.

I pull my fingers away and turn off the vibrator, dropping it on the bed, but resume lazy circles to ease her through the post-orgasm haze. It takes her a while to gather the strength to move, and even then it's only to crane her neck to offer me a smile.

I kiss her cheek. I want this forever. What if I tell her about my parents and she stays? What if–?

Joe slides off my lap and turns around to face me.

I bend my knee in a feeble attempt to hide my erection from her view. Not that there's much opportunity for me to hide with the duvet on the floor. The burn of my cheeks has nowt to do with the sweat. Hey Google: How is it possible for me to suddenly be insecure in front of someone who has seen me naked several times, and then some?

I focus on my hands. The tips of my fingers are numb and wrinkled with her wetness. I shouldn't feel so empty without her weight.

'Are you...?' Her voice still stumbles, though I doubt it's got owt to do with the orgasm this time. 'Are you sure about this?'

Despite myself, I look up. Her eyes are gentle, the lighting too low to show the layers of brown in them, but the pure black is no less tender. She adjusts my glasses, ensures I see every petal of her sincerity.

I shift against the damp sheet. The sweat has started to evaporate from my skin, leaving behind a chill. Over the weekend, we continued with the instructed wanking and it honestly did make me more comfortable with her but... I don't want to ask for more than I deserve.

Trolley Problem: Oh no! The woman you're in love with wants to give you a hand job. You can refuse at the risk she ends things with you OR you can accept at the risk that she'll find you a nuisance and end things anyway.

But Joe wouldn't do that. If she's happy to listen to my very uneventful work anecdotes, she won't be bored by one wank. She wouldn't be so persistent about it just to have a laugh. She's too kind of a person for that.

'I trust you.'

With a shy smile, Joe climbs back on top of me, straddling my lap, and for a second I think she has changed her mind about the method, but then her hand wraps around me. My breath hitches in my throat, my gaze cuffed to hers which in turn is focused downwards. The lust that spills from them alone forces me to squirm to dull my own even when Joe don't move. It's a reward, praise.

'Has anyone ever told you that the head of your dick looks exactly like Darth Vader?' 

I laugh though I don't have enough air to do it properly. The last bits of worry have withered and what's left is the arousal. It winds around my body, slow and sinuous like the music.

The first stroke of Joe's hand collapses my head against the headboard.

'Look at me.'

I go to complain but the only thing that comes out are gasps. So I lift my head and force my eyes to stay open to find Joe's. She keeps my gaze laced to hers as she moves, stroking me the way I've inadvertently demonstrated every time she wears her strap.

Whenever my eyelids flutter, she reminds me to look at her. And then she tells me how well I'm doing until pleasure radiates from me in widening rings.

'Thank you for trusting me to do this.'

That shouldn't be hot but it shoves me so close to the edge that I cling on only because she'll compliment me if I wait until I get permission. And when she grants it to me, I come apart with strong, wrenching convulsions.

Joe plants a kiss on my sweaty forehead. 'You're perfect.' I'm too far gone to form words but she presses a finger to my lips to silence me anyway. 'Say it after me. If you're convincing, I'll even let you fuck my thighs.'

I grin under her touch even though my eyes are slow to focus on her. 'I'm perfect.'

My post-nut clarity, for once, don't come with regret. All it helps me recognise is the warmth in my chest, the resin coursing through my blood, the blooming everywhere she touches and everywhere she doesn't. I never thought I could be vulnerable without a hangover.

Joe's smile wavers under my attention. 'What?'

'I've never trusted anyone like this.'

'Well, get ready cause we're practising blow jobs next.'

'No, I meant...' Sitting upright, I blink the remnants of fog from my sight and caress her thighs where my hands still rest. 'I care about you, Josephine. You know that, right?'

'Yeah.'

Despite her nod to reassure me, I continue. 'It's important to me that you know—no matter how this ends, please don't ever doubt that I care about you.'

Joe shifts. Not off my lap but she leans far enough to allow cold air from the leaky window to swarm between us. 'Why are you being so weird?'

'Sorry.' I chase her, kiss her to sign the end of my "moment". Not that it's over, the joy from having her this close or the dream that I always will. 'I only meant as a coworker.'

Laughter bursts from her, mine gladly following. 'Shut up.' Arm draping across my shoulders, Joe pulls my mouth to hers again and the sun kindles in my chest.