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“They were.”
“Were?” My hands still.
“They passed about eight years ago. Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.” To my surprise I don’t laugh, even though this is a prime example of an inopportune moment. Maybe I’m finally outgrowing that particular personality defect.
“Thank you,” he says, and when nothing else follows I start rubbing again.
“What?” His question brings my gaze to his, and I see him point to his lip. “You’re chewing on it again. What?”
No way. I’m not going to admit I was thinking about my own shitty parents when he’s clearly sad about losing his.
“You really don’t want to know.” I knead his ankle, shoving my family out of my mind and focusing on my salacious daydream. This time I know he sighs in response, which makes me feel oddly content despite the fact I’m touching his foot.
“Of course, I want to know.”
“Fine,” I groan for maximum effect and tell him about my fantasy instead of the reality he caught me remembering. “I’m pretending I’m rubbing your ass.”
“That’s how you stomach rubbing my foot?” He chokes back a laugh.
“We all have our phobias. And the ass visual worked for me. Or it did.” I nudge his leg away because with him saying foot I can’t pretend anymore.
“Well, I didn’t have the same visual, but I think it had the same results.”
“What?” I twist my head to look at him, and see him pointing to his junk, which is standing at full attention. As much as it can be from underneath his track shorts.
“My foot rub did that?”
“I thought it was an imaginary butt massage.” He points to my shorts, which are also tented. Huh. “Looks like it worked for you, too. You know what this means?”
“Time to bounce on your cock?” I lick my lips eagerly.
He chuckles and reaches for my hand, dropping his legs to the floor as he pulls me onto his lap. “Only if I get to suck on yours first.”
Oh, fuck yes!
***
It’s torture sitting at my desk.
Correction, it’s torture sitting here by my lonesome when I’ve spent the last few weeks working at Noah’s kitchen table. It was fun showing him what I do, eating all our meals together, and vegging on the sofa when we were done for the day.
When I volunteered to help him out with his ankle and made arrangements to work from his place, I didn’t think I’d see as much of him as I did. I figured he’d watch TV or read while I was a good little worker bee, and I’d pop up to get him snacks and shit when he asked so he wouldn’t have to walk. I didn’t expect him to take an interest in my projects and sit by my side while I worked on them, oohing and aahing over my designs and even brainstorming ideas with me. The man may be a jock but he’s no dud in the creative department, and while I love my job to begin with, he made it more fun.
Now that I’m back in the office, sitting alone, I feel antsy. I can’t explain it, but I miss the back and forth we had, and I keep looking at the clock to see when I can leave. Time to bother Xander, since pestering him often rejuvenates me.
“I’m in literal heaven. Noah loves dick,” I confess as I plop my ass on the corner of his desk.
Even though he’s clearly skeptical about the big guy and I playing footsy with our dicks, it’s sort of tradition for me to exploit my exploits, and now that our secret’s out I see no reason why I can’t gift Xander with some of the saucy details, which… Dear Lord.
I’ve been ‘taking care of’ Noah for almost two weeks and he’s slightly more mobile now. Even though I've started working in my office again, I’m still staying at his place every night. In his bed. Where he makes sure I’m thoroughly exhausted by the time I fall asleep, and sometimes again when I wake up. It’s like I’ve got my own personal sex doll. Or dildo. Or… Cock worshiper sounds obnoxious, but it’s not entirely inaccurate given his fascination with my junk.
“Yes, I sort of assumed that since you’re dating,” Xander says blandly.
“Fucking,” I correct. “But yes, he loves it.” Ever since he hate-fucked us into the next universe, he’s been greedy for it, coming after me day and night. I suppose a small part of his desperation could be attributed to the kissing, a slip up on my part but one I can’t say I regret. It’s led to more sex, and the big guy is a fantastic kisser.
True, I’m breaking the rules I set for myself, which should be concerning. Prior to Noah, neither kissing nor sleepovers were part of my vocabulary. I know in the long run it will prove to be a bad idea that I’ve let them become habit, but… Sex! Lots and lots of it. In every room, on every surface, and in every position imaginable as long as he can do it without putting weight on his foot.
