Page 12 of Compulsion

He kissed me then, just as shockingly as he had the first time. His mouth was hot and damp on me, plundering my own, his tongue probing behind my teeth. His beard felt rough against my skin, the short hair scraping across my jaw. He nipped at my lower lip and started undoing the buttons of my shirt with deft fingers. At the same time, he slid his wet tongue out of my mouth and ran it around my cheek and out to my temple. Along its path, his lips pressed against my skin, kissing me with possessive care. His hot breath tickled the hair I’d tucked back behind my ears, and his hands caressed my chest.

I shuddered with pleasure. It seemed like forever since I’d had this kind of attention. A few words, a kiss that was more like an attack—that was all I’d had from Seve so far. That, and a bloody good fucking. What kind of relationship potential was that? Yet tonight, this was pure indulgence—even though it was already heading way beyond a kiss.

He wriggled his hand down between us to undo the button and zip of my jeans. He wrenched them down, dragging my boxers with them. I wriggled until I got my feet free of the cloth, but it was difficult to move with hardly any space in the room. And now I was naked from the waist down. Again, I thought, more than a little disorientated. Seve was all over me, hands at my groin, pushing my flapping shirttails out of the way, fingers sliding in between my tensed thighs. His features were half-hidden in the dark, but he remained a very tangible man, his body pressed against mine. He cupped my balls, his palm even warmer than my furred, tightening flesh, and his eyes glinted in the shadows. I saw the occasional flash of his teeth as he grinned or grimaced—I wasn’t sure which. He never said a word, but I happily surrendered to those sweaty, demanding hands in the stuffy air of the storeroom, allowing him to hold me. To grip my waist, to curl a fist around my aching cock. To do whatever he wanted with me.

There were soft moans of satisfaction, and they weren’t only mine.

He pushed me back until I felt the edge of the table on my arse. Then he slid his hands under my bare buttocks and hoisted me up onto the top of it. There was only a small square of available space—half the box files immediately slipped off the table, and the towels flattened out underneath me, their softness a welcome cushion under my bum. Seve pushed the other files off impatiently and let them crash on the floor. It felt a little like that scene in A Streetcar Named Desire when Brando angrily sweeps away the crockery to show how he’s gonna clear the table. My shoulders were pressed hard against the cold surface of the back wall, and Seve leaned in against me, holding me in place. He twisted awkwardly, shaking off his shirt, fumbling with the waistband of his jeans. Then his hands gripped my thighs and pulled them apart.

My cock was damp at the tip and straining shamelessly to the heavens. He tugged me farther toward him so that my arse perched on the very edge of the table. I wanted to grab on to something as an anchor, but I didn’t think the computer monitor was stable enough, so I just spread my hands on the tabletop and hoped for the best. My fingers caught the edge of a pack of paper, and it tumbled off after the files. By now my back was bent awkwardly and my feet were waving in the air. My knees were wide apart—I was completely, brazenly open for him. I knew that at this angle, if there’d been enough light, he’d have been able to see all of me—my dick, my balls, my hole. I felt horribly exposed and even more shockingly excited. A blob of precome dripped onto my belly, and I could smell my eagerness.

Seve suddenly took one hand away and turned his head so he was totally shadowed. He seemed to be groping around in the pocket of his jeans. All I could hear was the sound of his harsh breathing. When his hand touched me again, it was covered with something cool and slippery. Lube. I shifted, trying to get more comfortable, and one of my joints cracked. My heart was hammering. Then his fingers slid into me and I moaned more loudly.

He loomed over me again, his eyes wide and knowing, his mouth searching for mine. I sucked hard on his tongue, desperate because I knew what was coming. He wriggled forward, rubbing his groin against mine. His cock was free of his jeans, the satiny sheath stroking my length, tugging my own skin up then back down again. The suspense was almost unbearably exciting. When he moved against me, our chest hair brushed with a thin sheen of sweat. I grasped him with one hand and held on. The hair on his forearms was damp already.

He’d come prepared this time. Or maybe last Saturday’s condomless status had been the exception. When his stretching fingers had finished their work in my arse and his cock nudged up against my entrance, it felt slick with latex and lube. I was really glad I didn’t have to bring up the subject again. I also didn’t need him to spread my legs even farther, but I let him, because it was a touch from him—an intimate one. He slid his hands under me again and lifted my thighs a couple of inches off the bench, propping me on my tailbone. And he entered me like last time. Hard.

A groan escaped me, probably too loud considering I had no idea who might be passing outside the room. We both grunted and started moving together. He was face-to-face with me this time, though his features were gray in the half-light. But it was good to feel him flush up against me, and I hung on to him as best I could. He had more hair on his chest than I did and he was more muscled, even though I was fit from work on the site. He smelled great, whereas I was sure I smelled of too much sweat and beer. Each time he thrust into me, I was knocked back against the wall, but I clenched my thighs around his hips and let him dictate the pace. It was a bloody exciting angle for me. He hit my prostate more often than not, and several times I had to hold myself back from arching right up and falling off the table. My cock was squashed between us, rubbed to maximum sensitivity by the skin of his belly and begging for release. His knee knocked against the table leg, and the last of the box files teetered on the edge, then fell. We rocked on top of the table, not caring. The towels slid away from under my arse, and when I flung out an arm, looking for better purchase, I thumped the tall box on the chair. The cardboard gave a whumph sound, and I heard the squeaky puff of more polystyrene chips flying through the air.

“Max.” I barely caught Seve’s whisper. His breath blew out over my neck. “Touch yourself, Max. I can’t….”

I peeled my hand away from his shoulder. He adjusted his stance so that he could still balance me on the table and continued to thrust into me, his thighs under mine, the open zip of his jeans starting to scratch at my exposed skin. I didn’t care. I fisted my fingers around my cock and started to pump.

Seve’s breath hitched and his head dropped. Even in the dark, he was watching me jerk off, my hand squeezed up between our bodies, twisting up and down my swollen shaft. His teeth tightened briefly on the skin of my shoulder.

“Close,” he hissed and started to thrust into me more quickly. I reckoned I could feel him thickening inside me. I squeezed both the muscles of my hole and my hand around my dick, eager for completion for both of us. Seve was going to come soon, and I was either going to be flattened against the wall or plonked down unceremoniously. There was already a nagging pain in my lower back from trying to keep upright as he fucked me to a blubbering wreck. But I didn’t need much help at all to get there—my climax came rushing like a geyser and my hand became a blur as my eyes filled with tears of excitement.

“Seve… shit!” I moaned aloud, and the last things I saw before the ecstasy robbed me of sense were his eyes opening wider in the half light and a shocked smile on his face. Even as my hot come hit our stomachs and began to dribble down between us, he gave a shout and pushed hard against me, forcing me back up against the wall and pressing finger-shaped bruises into my buttocks.

Gotcha! I thought wearily and triumphantly.

IT WAS eerily quiet in that tiny room, despite our ragged breathing. I untangled my legs from around his hips and he pulled his cock slowly out of me. With a wince, I sat back properly on the table and let my feet land on the floor. I was in dire need of proper support. My whole body ached and throbbed with the climax, the excitement, the physical strain.

“You okay?” I whispered into the darkness.

He nodded. I felt it because his head was bowed against my shoulder. He reached out a hand to grip my waist as if he were supporting himself as well. “Your head,” he muttered.

Huh? I put a hand up, wondering why he was suddenly worrying about it. I found several chips in my hair and pulled them out with an irritated grunt. They were squashy between my fingers and shone white in the dim light. Great. Not only did I presumably look well fucked, I was also a lookalike for Frosty the Snowman.

“Hell of a squeeze in here.” It was a feeble joke of mine, I knew, but to my surprise, Seve chuckled softly.

“Hell of a good squeeze, though.”

I wasn’t arguing with that. Just wondered what I was going to say now. How do you follow a fucking like that? Judging by my earlier pathetic “come here often” gambit, I knew I was out of practice in sweet-talking my partners. I didn’t think Seve was looking for that, anyway. If I even knew what he was looking for.

I reached down to the floor, fumbling for my jeans. He let go of me and took a step backward. My boxers were pushed into my hand, and I felt Seve’s sweaty palm against mine. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

Silence as I dressed myself. I was sticky all over my stomach, and I had to peel another polystyrene chip off there as well. The spunk was already drying, and I knew it’d be a really itchy treat when I walked home. A couple of the towels had tangled around my ankle like overeager children, and when I stood up, I stubbed a toe on one of the fallen files. I thought about moving to the doorway, but there was something scratching against the back of my thigh that was either a horny dog or an oversized toilet brush, and I wasn’t sure of the best escape route. Did we need some sort of security code to get out of here, or would I end up trapped with my postcoital aches and pains until someone came to restock the ladies’ toilets?

But a crack of light suddenly speared across the floor, and I saw that Seve had opened the door back out to the club. The noise level increased from downstairs—I heard someone shriek with laughter and the swell of sing-along to a Kylie hit. I could see Seve’s silhouette against the hallway light; then he turned back to look at me. He’d run a hand through his hair and it stood up spikily, despite its short length. But his shirt was rebuttoned carefully, and the jeans looked like they’d been molded to his body at birth.

I suspected I looked like I’d been dragged through the proverbial hedge and then back again, just for the hell of it. He was staring at me, so I guessed that must be it. Game over. I knew my cue when I heard it. Licking my lips, I said, “So. Um. I’ll be….”

“Going?” I thought I heard a sharp edge to his voice.

“Guess so.” What was I meant to do? Thank him for the hospitality? For the fuck? Some weird X-rated spin on “Thank you for having me”? I straightened up, determined to regain some kind of dignity. It was bloody difficult, is all I can say. My legs felt like jelly and my heart was only just settling back to a steady rhythm. I stared back at Seve, his body still half in darkness, preventing me from seeing everything his expression might tell. I stared at his strong profile, his perfectly controlled limbs. At the glimmer of saliva on his lips, the shape of the lush, plump lips that matched the mark of teeth on my shoulder….

Yeah. Bloody difficult.