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18+ For The Masses

Unfilt(h)ered prurient matter for the masses. (18+)

[This one's interesting because the gender of the other party was deliberately vague. It was a bit of a challenge but I enjoyed it. Another one from the MM RP vaults. This is a work of fiction.]

I was running late. That in and of itself was no great surprise to anyone. What was surprising was that I wasn't particularly worried about it. I'd had a nice weekend so far. Breakfast alone. Lunch with the boy. Dinner with the girl. I was due in at the 9:30 club by 5:30 for soundcheck, and it was very nearly 5 as I exited my room and made my way to the elevator. I had a bit of a smile on my face, as I was quickly developing a soft spot for this elevator in particular. I was half-occupied with my thoughts as I rounded the corner and realized the elevator was already opening its doors to let someone out. Not wanting to run into another group of overzealous fans (we've had to call security twice since we checked in. Their persistence, however aggravating, is still a flattery), I busied myself with examining the contents of the snack machine, my back carefully turned towards the footsteps that approached, growing ever slower. Shit. Did they recognize me even now?

"You're late."
It was you. I smiled, didn't turn around.
"So are you. I thought you left an hour ago."
"I forgot something." Your hand on my arm, voice in my ear. "I need to talk to you. Not, here.." I nod, and you guide me away from the rainbow display of chocolate and microwave popcorn, pulling me to the door marked STAIRS. The red exit sign glows as bright as any bordello's advertisement as you push the door open, motioning me inside after you. I follow, and the door closes behind us.

It's been awhile since I've been in a stairwell like this. We're on the top floor and it's a long way down the dimly lit shaft to the bottom. I turn to look at you and I can barely make out your eyes, the line of your shoulder, the bottom curve of your lip. You're standing so close to me that I can smell you, and your scent makes my tongue knot up behind my teeth in a fury to taste you, wanting to tear at your carefully tailored clothes, your impossible smoothness. Your mouth opens and I'm certain that I know what this is about before you say a single word. That single word is my name, and then you attack me in a frenzy, your hands wound in my hair, your tongue probing my mouth, body arched against me. I respond in kind, tasting lipstick and cigarettes, pulling you back into the corner behind the door with me. Already your hands are fumbling at my belt and I break the kiss, opening my eyes to find you looking back at me with gleaming eyes, your hands finished with the belt and working on my zipper.
"Shh." You smile. I open my mouth to make my token protest but again you cut me off. "Let them wait. I just need to borrow you for a few minutes." Who could argue with that logic? A few minutes wouldn't hurt, and I smirk and relax against the wall with my hands at my sides. Your nimble fingers have made short work of the button and zipper of my pants and are already drawing me out through the opening of my briefs. I was hard the moment you kissed me, but the touch of your hand makes me harder still, and I smile as you gingerly sink to your knees on the concrete floor.

My eyes close momentarily and open again to the sight of your tongue traveling along the ridge of my cock from my balls to the tip, making me twitch in your hand. You catch me looking at you and smile back, making a show of how lightly you can lick me, thin stripes of wetness along my length before you shift your grip and I know you're serious now, if you weren't before. I have just enough time to take a breath before your lips are moving over the head, engulfing the shaft in the slick heat of your mouth, taking it all until your nose bumps my stomach and I lose that breath I'd taken in a moan. Your hands shift to my hips to steady yourself, starting up an insistent rhythm with lips and teeth and tongue that I know I won't be able to stand for long. I'm moaning as quietly as I can, my hands moving to your shoulders, thumbs caressing the line of your throat as you suck me. I'm losing cohesion. I have no idea how long I've been here, how long we've been doing this, I'm aware only of the pull of your mouth and the ever-tightening grip of your hands on my hips, moving me at an increasingly fast tempo. The knot in my stomach tightens and I'm tensing to fight it, my breath hissing between my teeth as I whisper a warning to you, a warning that goes unheeded if you heard it at all, the speed of your motion only increasing. My fingers knot into your hair as my hips pump against your face, not knowing if I'm hurting you and not caring as the gathered tension explodes out of me. I'm fucking your throat too fast and too hard, my teeth bared and back arched with the force of orgasm, slamming into your mouth until I can finally check myself into slowing down, folding back against the wall behind me with a groan.

My eyes seem to have closed again. I open them and you're on your feet, dusting off your knees and helping to rearrange my clothes. I thank you and you smile at me in a contented sort of way, kissing my cheek and pulling the door to the hall open for us. I walk you back to the elevator and press the call button, listening to the gears hum.
"I have to run back to the room to grab something." You're still smiling as you back away down the hall, and I can't read your eyes clearly. 
The elevator door opens and I step inside, the doors closing behind me with a muffled thump.
My lipstick is ruined. And I'm still late.