Kate

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Max is arranging my hair into a loose braid. I’m not ready to go to sleep: I’m tired, but there’s nothing but tossing and turning and unsettling dreams waiting for me between those sheets. So I push him onto his back. He goes easy, spreading his legs a little. I push his towel aside, finding him half-hard already. He twitches when I crawl up on top of him, swells when a loose curl tickles his shaft. Curious, I lean closer.

“What are you doing?”

Rather than answer, I sigh, letting my breath ruffle his pubic hair. He groans aloud, and his hand drifts toward his cock. I trap it under mine.

“Tease....”

I smile and lick delicately along the seam of his balls. He stifles a whine. Good. If I can get him frantic enough, my lack of experience shouldn’t matter. I trace the crease of his thigh with my tongue, nip at the crest of his hipbone, rake my nails down his sides. Already, he’s lifting his hips, biting the back of his hand.

He reaches for me again, trying to guide my head between his legs, but I slip free of his grasp, lavishing him with kisses everywhere but where he wants them. Tight muscles jump as I graze my lips over his lower belly. His cock presses against my chest, and I let it drag between my breasts. That draws another moan out of him, and I do it again till he’s slick and throbbing, rocking shamelessly against me.

A dizzy heat surges through me: it’s a heady feeling, watching him tremble for my touch. Emboldened, I push up his leg, bite the back of his thigh, suck at the reddened skin.

“Ah!”

Max spreads his legs wider. I lick him from his taint to the base of his cock, savoring that thrill of power as I leave him hanging, neglected cock pulsing against his stomach. He’s flushed across his face and chest, breath coming fast and harsh. Another lick, and he’s biting his lip, sheets bunched in his fist. I keep his hand restrained in mine as my other hand migrates between my legs, teasing my lips apart. Eager bolts of pleasure shoot through me with every gasp I wrest from him, every jolt of his hips.

I want to taste him. Want to take him apart with my mouth, see him undone for me.

I want him to beg for it.

I kiss my way up his body, stopping just short of his lips. He raises his head hungrily, and I pull away. “Tell me what you want.”

He makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He grips my chin, just tight enough to threaten. His voice drops, low and menacing—fuck, that’s hot. “You want me to beg.”

“Oh? Too proud?”

His gaze meets mine, hard and pitiless, but his hand drops away. “Please. Suck my cock.”

Oh.... So much better than I thought. I want to hear it again, that gravelly plea, but my intent’s not to sting his ego. I sink back down, and he’s ready for me, head glistening in the dim light. I snake out my tongue and lap at the slit, encouraged when that gets an eager buck out of him. Completely unrestrained...that probably means he’s done this a lot, had better than me, but I’m past caring as I take him between my lips, letting him thrust against my tongue.

His cock swells; I can feel the rush of blood under the skin, his tension as he restrains himself from fucking my throat. I wrap my hand around him to keep him from going too deep and glide my lips down, down, as far as I can take him. I undulate my tongue and he shouts. I can taste him, a little bitter, a little salty at the back of my throat.

“You’re—you’re good at that.”

I preen under his praise, letting my teeth brush against the tender flesh. He whimpers, so I cover them with my lips and bob my head faster. His hand comes up to tangle in my hair, setting my braid in disarray. He’s moving with me, matching his pace to mine. I rock against my own hand, fingers rough on my clit as he plunges into my mouth. I realize I’m moaning around him, and he’s responding to it, rhythmic tremors coursing through him with the rise and fall of my voice.

He grits out a warning—“I’m close”—but I don’t acknowledge it, don’t care. I want to swallow all of him, make him mine, mine, mine. Even just for tonight.

Max brings his fist to his mouth, but he can’t repress his cry as he spills in my mouth. He bucks up hard, but I hold him in place, working him through every spasm, every shock. At last, he starts to soften, and I rise up on my knees, closing my eyes as I tease myself to my own climax. It doesn’t take long: the taste of him on my tongue, the triumph of having reduced him to this, made him beg for me—it’s overwhelming, and I sob out my own satisfaction, sinking down on my heels.

When I open my eyes, he’s staring, open-mouthed. I blink, self-conscious. “What?”

“Nothing.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing at all.”

“No, really. What?”

“I can’t believe you just did that in front of me.” He gestures at my hand, still nestled between my legs. “I love that. It’s... Nobody does that.”

They don’t? Shit.... I feel my ears turning red.

“Come here.” Max reaches for me, and I let him pull me on top of him. “Feels good, here with you.”

I stretch out, enjoying the casual closeness. It does feel good. We fit together...always have.

“We should get some—”

Something clunks in the hallway, right outside the door. Against the door. I sit up so fast the blood rushes south, and I reel. “What was that?”

Max is already on his feet, pulling my robe around him. “Stay right there.”

Fuck that. I grab a sheet and follow him, sticking close as he creeps up on the door. My heart’s pounding in my throat—it’s two in the morning. Who...why—?

He stoops to check the peephole. Turns to me and shakes his head: no one there.

I’m not convinced. “Check the hall.”

Max eases the door open. Makes a show of peering left and right, up and down the hall. His shoulders loosen with visible relief. “Nobody there. Must’ve been, y’know, when someone slams the door down the hall, and all the doors rattle. Old building.”

“Yeah.” I look past him, doubtful, but he’s right. It’s deserted out there.

“Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got an early flight.”

I let him lead me back to bed, but the sweet lassitude of my afterglow is shattered. Someone was out there—someone unfriendly. Someone who felt the need to hide themselves when we stirred.

Max is still here, warm and solid at my back, but inside, I’m cold as ice. If that was him out there, the faceless blackmailer...will he throw Max in my face again? Have I just given him what he needs to destroy us completely?

Goddamn DC bubble.