Negotiations 13
Go back to Negotiations 12 or start at the beginning.
A/N: This entire series started out as a writing experiment for me, so this chapter is told in first person instead of second. It's fun to play around with this a bit and see which one makes the chapter feel like a paved road and which one feels like gravel. I intend to switch it up whenever the mood hits me. Enjoy and thanks for your comments!
JUSTIN'S POV
I've been spending a significant amount of time wondering what turning the tables would really mean for me and for Brian, even if it's only for a week. I think about it, and my thoughts become soaked with a need to really please him--only no longer from a submissive frame of mind. It's tricky for me to stay out of that mindset for a prolonged period of time, partly because of the nature of my relationship with Brian (the age difference, the initial experience deferential) and partly because I really enjoy that role with him. He's way too good at being the other side of the coin.
I worry that I won't be.
But I make myself push that inkling to the back of my mind and slam it behind a heavy door.
This Monday morning, he's standing in the bathroom shaving. He knows that I'm watching him--I have the free-standing full length mirror in our bedroom tilted at exactly the right angle to watch him primp before work. He takes his towel off because he knows I'm watching him. Sex is never more than two rows back in Brian's head. And if his towel is off when he comes out, he'll come sit next to me for a few minutes and do his stealth flirt and fondle routine. He starts by looking deeply into my eyes, his thumb resting on my jawbone. Then he leans down to kiss me, and that's when I tell him, "I'm hard."
"You were watching me, so duh," he says right before his lips merge with mine.
"I need you to blow me," I hear myself say.
He actually scowls (just a little), "I just brushed my teeth."
"Good, then it'll tingle," I tell him. He shakes his head at me like I'm too much to handle, and I have to worm my way out of his arms because he's trying to get my face closer to his cock. We don't even talk or really look at each other; we just wrestle in slow motion. I can hear his phone going off on the nightstand while we execute this weird dance: texts and voice mails rolling in, reminders popping up. It's a typical Monday. I'm in as much shock as he his when I realize that I've somehow pushed him off the bed and onto the floor on his knees. I'm sitting in front of his face; my legs spread wide open. I retract a huge smile that was about to sprout from my lips and instead, focus on holding my cock out for him. Brian rolls his eyes ever-so-slightly as he leans forward and starts kissing and licking my dick. I lean back on my hands and watch as he pulls my cock straight up so he can run his tongue all the way down to the base and then takes my balls in his mouth. He's feral like this and acting out; he lets me feel his teeth--just barely. And then...he just goes for it. He brings his hands up under my thighs and tilts me backwards, sniffing me like a wild animal, lapping at my asshole. I can feel the raw strength he harbors, and I want to let him take me. I want to fall back, hike my knees up to my ears and let him eat me, finger me, get me off....and he's rising up and coming after me...rabid yet clean shaven.
He wants to fuck me.
And I want him to fuck me....hard.
......
But he's not going to fuck me on his terms.
Not today.
Some secret power inside me helps me reverse our bodies' last movements, run them backwards until he's back on his knees with my dick parked in his mouth; he's growling, low and deep as I fuck his face. He's cheats when my breathing gets more intense and slips a finger inside me, massaging me as I come down his throat. And when I'm in that heady after-orgasm state, he climbs up, pushes me down so he's on all fours above me, and just kisses me; it's long and wet and meant to be a message: he wants me to taste myself; he wants me to know that he was seconds away from being inside me.
Message received.
I plant my hands on his shoulders and hold him back, "Go wash your face. You're going to hit that traffic you hate."
And then like the reset button's been activated, he's back standing nude in the bathroom, staring in the mirror washing his face and his hands. He's erect and doing his best to ignore it. I watch the rest of his routine in silence, rolling around in the sheets to maintain the best view of his every move. When he's done, impeccably dressed and smelling like he should be, he comes back, this time to my side of the bed, sits down and just stares at me like I'm a species he doesn't quite recognize.
"I'll miss you today," I say because it's true.
"Me, too," he says.
"I'd prefer it if you'd wear the tie I gave you instead of this one," I tell him, flicking the material. "Mine looks better."
He gives me that's quite enough look, sighs and goes into his closet to change it. "I've gotta go," he says from the doorway, his silhouette revealing that he's still hard.
"Don't get road rage," I warn him after I glance at the clock, "And don't touch yourself either."
He looks mildly frustrated and tells the hallway, "See? I knew.... I told you--"
"At all, Brian. Not in the car, not in your bathroom, nothing at all until I see you tonight."
"Just throw me in the deep end," he mutters to himself with a grand gesture, again to the hallway and not to me.
"You'll be okay," I reassure him, "You can swim."
"It's more like treading water."
"I love you. Go to work and remember, five thirty, no later." I roll away and bury myself under the covers so he'll actually get out of the doorway and out of our house. He slams the front door a couple of minutes later. I smile in my warm cocoon because he normally leaves for work through the kitchen. That little detour and subsequent mini-tantrum was strictly for my benefit.
Clearly, there's work to be done here.
......
Even after I’ve showered, dressed, sent my paintings off with a smelly truck driver and am making an early lunch for myself, I know that I’m still flying blind on this. I didn’t plan what just happened between us; I just let it play out moment to moment. And for the most part, I think that’s okay for now. One step at a time and all that.
And then the mail comes and everything changes.
Negotiations 14
A/N: This entire series started out as a writing experiment for me, so this chapter is told in first person instead of second. It's fun to play around with this a bit and see which one makes the chapter feel like a paved road and which one feels like gravel. I intend to switch it up whenever the mood hits me. Enjoy and thanks for your comments!
JUSTIN'S POV
I've been spending a significant amount of time wondering what turning the tables would really mean for me and for Brian, even if it's only for a week. I think about it, and my thoughts become soaked with a need to really please him--only no longer from a submissive frame of mind. It's tricky for me to stay out of that mindset for a prolonged period of time, partly because of the nature of my relationship with Brian (the age difference, the initial experience deferential) and partly because I really enjoy that role with him. He's way too good at being the other side of the coin.
I worry that I won't be.
But I make myself push that inkling to the back of my mind and slam it behind a heavy door.
This Monday morning, he's standing in the bathroom shaving. He knows that I'm watching him--I have the free-standing full length mirror in our bedroom tilted at exactly the right angle to watch him primp before work. He takes his towel off because he knows I'm watching him. Sex is never more than two rows back in Brian's head. And if his towel is off when he comes out, he'll come sit next to me for a few minutes and do his stealth flirt and fondle routine. He starts by looking deeply into my eyes, his thumb resting on my jawbone. Then he leans down to kiss me, and that's when I tell him, "I'm hard."
"You were watching me, so duh," he says right before his lips merge with mine.
"I need you to blow me," I hear myself say.
He actually scowls (just a little), "I just brushed my teeth."
"Good, then it'll tingle," I tell him. He shakes his head at me like I'm too much to handle, and I have to worm my way out of his arms because he's trying to get my face closer to his cock. We don't even talk or really look at each other; we just wrestle in slow motion. I can hear his phone going off on the nightstand while we execute this weird dance: texts and voice mails rolling in, reminders popping up. It's a typical Monday. I'm in as much shock as he his when I realize that I've somehow pushed him off the bed and onto the floor on his knees. I'm sitting in front of his face; my legs spread wide open. I retract a huge smile that was about to sprout from my lips and instead, focus on holding my cock out for him. Brian rolls his eyes ever-so-slightly as he leans forward and starts kissing and licking my dick. I lean back on my hands and watch as he pulls my cock straight up so he can run his tongue all the way down to the base and then takes my balls in his mouth. He's feral like this and acting out; he lets me feel his teeth--just barely. And then...he just goes for it. He brings his hands up under my thighs and tilts me backwards, sniffing me like a wild animal, lapping at my asshole. I can feel the raw strength he harbors, and I want to let him take me. I want to fall back, hike my knees up to my ears and let him eat me, finger me, get me off....and he's rising up and coming after me...rabid yet clean shaven.
He wants to fuck me.
And I want him to fuck me....hard.
......
But he's not going to fuck me on his terms.
Not today.
Some secret power inside me helps me reverse our bodies' last movements, run them backwards until he's back on his knees with my dick parked in his mouth; he's growling, low and deep as I fuck his face. He's cheats when my breathing gets more intense and slips a finger inside me, massaging me as I come down his throat. And when I'm in that heady after-orgasm state, he climbs up, pushes me down so he's on all fours above me, and just kisses me; it's long and wet and meant to be a message: he wants me to taste myself; he wants me to know that he was seconds away from being inside me.
Message received.
I plant my hands on his shoulders and hold him back, "Go wash your face. You're going to hit that traffic you hate."
And then like the reset button's been activated, he's back standing nude in the bathroom, staring in the mirror washing his face and his hands. He's erect and doing his best to ignore it. I watch the rest of his routine in silence, rolling around in the sheets to maintain the best view of his every move. When he's done, impeccably dressed and smelling like he should be, he comes back, this time to my side of the bed, sits down and just stares at me like I'm a species he doesn't quite recognize.
"I'll miss you today," I say because it's true.
"Me, too," he says.
"I'd prefer it if you'd wear the tie I gave you instead of this one," I tell him, flicking the material. "Mine looks better."
He gives me that's quite enough look, sighs and goes into his closet to change it. "I've gotta go," he says from the doorway, his silhouette revealing that he's still hard.
"Don't get road rage," I warn him after I glance at the clock, "And don't touch yourself either."
He looks mildly frustrated and tells the hallway, "See? I knew.... I told you--"
"At all, Brian. Not in the car, not in your bathroom, nothing at all until I see you tonight."
"Just throw me in the deep end," he mutters to himself with a grand gesture, again to the hallway and not to me.
"You'll be okay," I reassure him, "You can swim."
"It's more like treading water."
"I love you. Go to work and remember, five thirty, no later." I roll away and bury myself under the covers so he'll actually get out of the doorway and out of our house. He slams the front door a couple of minutes later. I smile in my warm cocoon because he normally leaves for work through the kitchen. That little detour and subsequent mini-tantrum was strictly for my benefit.
Clearly, there's work to be done here.
......
Even after I’ve showered, dressed, sent my paintings off with a smelly truck driver and am making an early lunch for myself, I know that I’m still flying blind on this. I didn’t plan what just happened between us; I just let it play out moment to moment. And for the most part, I think that’s okay for now. One step at a time and all that.
And then the mail comes and everything changes.
Negotiations 14