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I come again just before he does, my sob of pleasure broken as he pulls out of me abruptly and comes in several sloppy spurts all over my stomach.
It ends as quickly as it started. I’m sore and raw and drenched in sweat and completely sated, and I lie limply on his bed as my body continues twitching with little afterquakes.
Grant strokes himself through the last of his climax, moaning a couple of times as he catches his breath and stares down at his semen on my stomach. His face for just a moment is satisfied. Almost soft.
Then he returns to himself again. His features fall back into his typical stoic control. He gets up and grabs a towel, wiping off my stomach and between my legs. I manage to sit up, self-conscious for the first time. While we were having sex, he felt different, but now he’s Grant again.
And I just showed up in his room to fuck him without invitation.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks at last, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me.
He did a little, but it was what I wanted. “I liked it.”
“Okay. Good.” He pauses before he admits. “I did too.”
We sit and breathe heavily for another minute.
Someone needs to draw this to a close, and I have no idea how to do it.
“We probably shouldn’t do this again,” he says at last.
“I know.” I knew from the beginning this would be only one time. I stand up and tell him what I also know to be true. “But if everything is going to change when we come out of lockdown, I wanted to get what I want down here. At least once.”
