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18+ Interlewd


Interlewd (18+)

[The following is a story I was asked to contribute for some kind of webzine. My guidelines were "around 1000 words of gay smut. Whatever you like, just try not to make people write angry letters". I've never tried to write to a size limit before and it was a lot more difficult than I thought it'd be. I spent the entire thing worried about it being not enough or too much. Would I get the whole story in? Would my voice be crippled with editing to fit size restrictions? In the end I hemmed and hawed and put it off for days before sitting down and knocking this out in about an hour on Easter night. I guess there's a note of hope in there, as Christ was dead and he came back to life against all kinds of odds, and the object of my lusts in this story is also dead for me right now. But stranger things have happened, and I'll roll that stone away.

Short and sweet, kids. And if you're literally a kid, you shouldn't be reading this.]

It started after they fired Alex, that incompetent twit. As glad as I was to see him go, he left a pile of extra work in his wake and my boss assigned me the task of cleaning up after him. There was so much to weed through that I often ended up taking work home with me, which cut into my precious quality time with my boyfriend. I always felt as if I was ignoring him when I worked from home, so when he said he was going out with friends after dinner, my guilty conscience welcomed the relief of having him occupied for awhile. It was late by the time I wrapped for the night and retired to my favourite fireside chair with a book I'd been trying unsuccessfully to finish for the past week. I must've drifted off as I don't remember hearing the front door, only the sound of his boots on the steps as he turned the corner and slipped into the room, walking up behind me.

"You're going to work yourself to death," he said with a smile in his voice, his fingers tangling my hair as he rounded the chair and settled into my lap with the smug sense of entitlement and easy grace of a cat, my book falling forgotten to the floor. I blinked a few times until his face came into focus, the blue of his eyes startling in the cold gray of pre-dawn, the light turning his blond hair to silver. He was beautiful and that beauty frequently got him into and out of all kinds of trouble. One of his many charming quirks.

"Ha." It was the best I could muster in my sleep-muddled state. "Did you have a good time out there in the big world without me?" He grinned and leaned down to kiss me instead of answering. Technically it was an answer, as his kisses spoke volumes and this one said that he'd been drinking and that he missed me. The part about missing me I deduced less by the kiss and more by the way his hands had found their way to my belt and were pulling the leather and metal apart, unbuttoning my jeans with one hand as the other moved lower, pressing the flat of his palm against my cock through the material, outlining its shape. I groaned softly and slid my hands under his shirt, loving the softness of his skin and the lines of his stomach, the taut muscle that tensed at my touch. He gasped when my thumbs grazed his nipples, arching his back in a way that made me want more of this writhing, sacrificing one hand to fight with the complicated mess of belts at his hip, managing to get enough of them loose to find and open the button of his trousers. He wore nothing underneath them tonight, the little slut. I growled approval of this against his neck and his answering chuckle died off under a growl of his own when my hand closed around his cock.

"Take all this off," I told him. He did so after a minute or two of unlacing his boots, still perched on my lap as he shifted his weight from knee to knee, kicking his clothes to the floor in an expensive, stylish pile. He didn't need clothes, really. My boy was every inch as stylish and expensive as the latest from Paris' runways. He balanced carefully, straddling my waist as he tugged at my pockets until I raised my hips enough for him to pull my jeans down past my knees, my underwear following them on the trip to my ankles. 

"I missed you," he whispered to me, eyes luminous so that I'd know exactly how much and in which ways he missed me, in case his erection wasn't enough of an indication. Of course I'd missed him too, likewise in like ways, and with our clothes gone our hands returned to where we left off. His cock always seemed like a miracle to me, smooth and hard and familiar. I knew his sighs by heart, I knew how hard to squeeze to turn those sighs into a moan, and I knew by the trickle of fluid against my wrist that he wanted me to fuck him. Or maybe it was the way he was shifting around above me, throwing his legs over the arms of the chair and lifting himself a bit, his eyes boring into mine as he spat into his hand, reaching to slick me just enough to get us started. I hooked my arms under his legs and dragged him nearer, my cock twitching as he sank down onto me.

"Fuck," he choked out, shuddering in little ripples that ran up and down his torso. He tensed his legs, thighs quivering as he moved, one hand clutching the back of the chair for leverage as he started to ride me, letting the chair hold most of his weight, no motion wasted as he rose and fell, taking me in with short but smooth strokes. His spit had begun to wear off and the friction started to build, the drag of him against my skin setting my teeth on edge in the best of ways. I never last long when he's like this, trembling and wide-eyed and hot enough inside to burn me. My hands moved to his hips and I pulled him down faster, roughly enough to rattle his teeth, the points of his bones sharp against my thighs as I fucked him. He was moaning recklessly now, a sound that only increased when I moved a hand to his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts, wanting to feel him come from the inside before I let myself go. His fingers slipped from the back of the chair to my shoulder, nails digging in as he gasped, lips shaping my name before he went rigid and dissolved into a flurry of cursing, shoving himself down as his cock jerked in my hand, splattering my fingers and his stomach with warm fluid. The sight of him coming overrode any restraint I had left and I snarled, slamming into him until I came hard and deep, our eyes locked together through it all.

The sun was pouring golden through the windows by the time we roused ourselves out of the chair and made our way to bed, hand in hand with a trail of dropped clothes behind us. My boss praises me for my work ethic. If he only knew my motivations.