It’s a recent development, this casual thing she has with him. A couple of times now she’s caught up with him at the bar and brought him back to her place, where he’s fucked her better than he has any right to. There’s no planning involved, no name to it. Nothing she thinks either them are comfortable addressing directly. It’s just fun , really. And she hadn’t had a lot of that in time past with men who’d seemed more promising at first but had lacked his enthusiasm and effort.
And the giant fucking rolling pin he has between his legs. That had been a surprise.
Right now Ziggy’s closed the door to her room behind him only to pull her against him and resume the kiss he’d started downstairs.
“God, it’s been too fuckin’ long,” he mutters against her lips before kissing her again.
She finds herself laughing as his mouth moves to her neck and burying one hand in Ziggy’s hair as she wraps her other arm around his back. “It’s been a week,” she tells him, and her laugh turns into a moan as he bites down, only to suck a mark against the sensitive skin.
He pulls his mouth off and says, “ That’s too fuckin’ long .”
He has one hand on her hip, the other on her ass and squeezes her with both before he latches on again, this time sucking at her collarbone. His breath is so warm , his mouth a brand and she’s taken back to the first night she ever spent with him, how he’d eagerly gone down on her and brought her off with more finesse than she’d expected. So far, she hasn’t returned the favor, and only partly because she can’t help but feel a little intimidated. She’s never had so much to work with, after all. But partly because he hasn’t made any overt moves to get her to reciprocate, as though waiting for her to make that leap first.
She pulls back back enough to try and push his jacket off his shoulders, and he pulls off long enough to shrug the jacket off completely and remove hers, only for her to grip his waist and pull him to her. She thinks fast, thinks of how he moans when he comes inside of her, how he enthusiastically responds to every touch in kind, how fucking good he’d look with his head tilted back and his mouth open if she were to suck his dick. And she makes a decision.
She tugs him not in the direction of the bed, but of the arm chair in the other end of her room that takes up too much space but she insisted on taking with her anyway “ because I wanted to keep it ” and that up until now served more as a place for her to throw her jacket and scarf than any tangible purpose.
Now, though, she’s putting it to use.
“Have a seat,” she murmurs, before pressing a kiss to Ziggy’s cheekbone. He looks a little confused, but compliant, putty in her hands and ready for anything. He shifts forward and gives her a hopeful little smile, probably thinking she’s going to ride him on the chair or something.
Which, maybe later, but for now she has other ideas.
His smile freezes, eyes widening as she sinks to her knees between his legs, spread enough to accommodate her as she runs her hands over the tops of his thighs—still in jeans, which she has every intention of changing right now.
“Take off your shirt,” she tells him before reaching for his belt.
She has picked up on it twice now that, while Ziggy’s not exactly ashamed of his dick, it could be a different story for the rest of his body, and that the many layers he wears aren’t strictly for protection against the cold. She doesn’t know how to comfort him about that, tell him she thinks that yes, he’s skinny and awkward, and he’s a breed of sexy that’s all his own and she’s really fucking into it.
But she has asked him to take off his shirt both times they’ve hooked up in the past, and each time he seems less and less hesitant.
Now he doesn’t waste time, unbuttoning and shrugging off his overshirt but hesitating as he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt underneath.
“What about you?” he asks, and she sits back enough to pull her shirt over her head, unhook her bra. She doesn’t go any further—the skirt stays on for now. A concerned older gentleman outside the bar earlier tonight had asked her, wasn’t she cold with the skirt and no stockings?
And she had been when outside, but had been only concerned with ease of access for Ziggy later and had only smiled politely in response.
Above her, Ziggy asks, “And the rest?”
“We’ll get to that later,” she tells him. She doesn’t doubt he’ll find a way to reciprocate, and she’s definitely looking forward to it, but for now she has other priorities, which she demonstrates as she unbuckles his belt.
“Promise?” he asks her, even as she can sense him stiffening in his pants, even as he takes off his t-shirt and grips one of the arms of her chair before reaching for her with his free hand, threading through her hair.
She doesn’t answer, just pulls his jeans and boxers down his thighs and to his knees, where they drop and pool around his ankles and wastes no time gripping the base of his cock and taking the tip into her mouth.
She’s met with an immediate gasp and Ziggy’s fingers tightening in her hair, but—thank God —not pushing her head down. She descends lower, finding him impossibly thick, hot and warm, his thigh tense under her free hand as after bobbing her head around the tip, she tries to take him in as far as she can.
She can’t take in all of him; there’s just too much of him to make that happen. But she can more than satisfy him. If the ragged breathing above her is any indication, she’s already succeeding.
Which is good, because her jaw is going to ache like hell soon.
She pulls off of him entirely, ignoring Ziggy’s soft whine of protest to lick her palm and grip him once more, vaguely hearing him murmurs, “ Oh, fuck ,” above her before she dives back down, taking him in as far as she can and managing to hit a rhythm to match the subtle almost-thrusts of Ziggy’s hips, making him groan and shift to bury both hands in her hair, and she responds in kind, humming around him and realizing that she’s fucking wet right now, having him like this, feeling him under her. It won’t take much for her to come once all this is over.
She realizes he just said her name, and manages a glance up at him, and she’s delighted to see he looks wrecked.
He says her name once more, as if some sort of incantation, and says, “Please, for the love of God, if you let me come in your mouth, I’ll get you off twice after this.”
She pauses, and pulls off completely with a wet pop, and gets a good look at him, his dark eyes widening in desperation, his cheeks flushed, his mouth open as he tries to say whatever he needs to in order to get her back where she was.
“ Please ,” he adds. “ Please , just let me…”
If he finishes that thought, he doesn’t say it aloud once she brings her head back down and works him at a pace that will leave her jaw sore for the entire day following, feeling him pulse and hearing him give a harsh, “Oh, fuck! ” as he spills down her throat. She manages not to gag as she swallows around him until he’s spent before pulling off and wiping the residual saliva off her mouth with the back of her hand.
He lets her go, watching her with his mouth open as he catches his breath. She settles back on her heels and says nothing, brow raised, a silent, Well? As promptly telegraphed as anything.
“Hol- y shit ,” Ziggy says. And he immediately descends from the chair and on top of her, sending them both to the floor and the cheap rug covering the hardwood.
He gets to work immediately, bringing his hands and mouth to her breasts, cupping one as he brings his tongue and teeth over the other, then switching off. She almost laughs, burying her dry hand in his hair, as he nips at the sensitive underside of her breast before pressing his lips to it, almost asks him to go lower, and finds she doesn’t need to. She knows that in a lot of ways he’s not exactly the smartest guy around, but in this regard, at least, he knows exactly what to do, and trails down her body, pressing a kiss to her stomach, just above the waistline of her skirt, hooking his fingers under them and the waistline of her panties, and pulling them down the length of her legs. They catch briefly along the tops of her boots, but he gets them the rest of the way off before he’s back down, cupping her ass and bringing his face between her legs with no further preamble.
She brings her hands to his hair once more as he drags his tongue along her slit before fastening his mouth to her clit, throbbing and warm and completely ready. She shudders and moans as he works her over, drawing a leg over his shoulder and finding she can’t help but tug at his hair, finding she’s both surprised and not to hear him moan in response, sounding fucking ravenous as he keeps lavishing attention to her clit.
“ Fuck ,” she manages. “Oh, fuck , that’s good.”
And Ziggy moans again, sounding desperate, like he hasn’t just come, and she knows she’s not going to last much longer. She’s been working up to this point since she met up with him tonight. She whines and arches her back and realizes, belatedly, that she’s rolling her hips up against him, feeling hot all over as she shakes and comes apart against his mouth so hard she’s pretty sure she blacks out.
When she comes to, legs spread-eagled, she glances up at Ziggy kneeling between them, looking nearly as messed up as she feels, and she’s ready to take five before he asks, “Again?”
And she thinks about how she set up tonight to meet him because she’s pretty sure it’s impossible to get enough of him inside of her; he’s more than proficient at going down on her, as he’s proven again, but she’s willing to wait for something else.
“How soon can you get hard again?” she asks.
Ziggy pulls back, brow furrowed, a nervous set in his mouth. “Why, isn’t this good for you?” he asks.
She takes into account his wide eyes and tussled hair before tussling it some more. “It’s really good,” she tells him. “Your fat fuckin’ cock would feel pretty good, too.”
His expression immediately brightens, face breaking into a dimpled grin. “You keep that up you’ll have me worried that it’s all you care about,” he says, and she laughs and pulls him against her.
He kisses her, and they taste like each other, and by all accounts that could be gross but it isn’t. She wraps her legs around his waist, and for a few minutes they just move together, and he’s good enough at this, languid at first, that she almost forgets she’s still wearing her fucking boots, and pulls away enough to draw her knees up and unlace them before kicking them off, where they land with distinct thuds on the floor. Screw it, not like that caused more noise than they have.
She doesn’t know how long it lasts—as long as it needs to, she supposes, and she likes the feel of him, his energy as he braces himself above her with one hand, uses the other to explore what parts of her he can, cupping her hip, caressing her thigh.
He presses his mouth lower, to her jaw, before murmuring in her ear, “I’m gonna go down on you again.”
And she’s coherent enough again, done with the aftershocks and ready for more, and tells him, “Oh, please do.”
He’s more leisurely this time, teasing her inner thighs, bringing one hand up the length of her body to squeeze one of her breasts as his tongue this time flickers over her clit before heading further south and pressing the broad flat of his tongue against her entrance.
She finds herself gasping, arching her back and drawing her legs up as he laps at her before pressing the tip of his tongue inside of her. She’s already aching again, trying not to push his face deeper against her, searching for more, knowing it’s entirely up to when he’s ready to give that to her. It’s a slower burn because that’s what it needs to be, and the payoff is going to have to take longer to be just as good. And it is a slow burn, but one that keeps going as the minutes pass and he shows no sign of slowing down.
“You’re doing so fucking good, Zig,” she tells him as she strokes his hair, and in response he gives a soft groan, going just that bit faster, drawing back to her clit, and she notices him shift, raising himself up and taking one hand from her hip to his cock, stiffening with every pass as he circles her clit with his tongue.
And then he sits back, hard again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before edging forward. She sits back on her elbows and takes him in. She can add ‘ has a fast recovery period ’ to the growing mental list she’s compiled of things she likes about him, that includes his smile, his goofy tattoos, his constant energy, and those big doe eyes. And the aforementioned dick.
“This is what you meant, right?” he asks.
She smirks in response and nods once, and his eyes brighten as he shifts and guides himself inside of her.
It’s easier this time than it was the first night, not the least because she’s so much more ready for it than she had been before, but she still feels incredibly full by the time he’s completely inside of her, trembling and her breath leaving her in a series of gasps. He waits a few seconds, the time it takes for her to regain her breath and rock her hips against him, for him to pull back almost to the tip and thrust back inside of her. He leans forward, braces above her, and she takes advantage of the closeness to grip his narrow back and hold on as he begins to speed up.
She has the sneaking suspicion that he likes it when she digs her nails in, if the way he thrusts deeper and his harsh breath against her ear is any indication, and so she does, before flattening her palms out to caress the length of his back on every return, drawing her legs back, feeling the heat continue to build and she keens as he fucks her hard and deep.
She’s close, she’s so close, and she needs to bring herself just that bit further.
She grips his shoulders and begins to turn them; he gets the message and rolls over onto his back, his eyes wide and mouth open as she sits up and grinds down onto him. She picks up the rhythm he’d started, nearly trembling as she feels somehow fuller this way, riding his cock, hearing him moan, feeling him slide his hands up the length of her torso and squeeze both of her breasts, rolling his hips up into her, chasing her as she keeps going, using him to reach her second climax that comes almost as a shock, making her freeze in place on top of him, feeling herself tense around him as she cries out, left on a precipice above him as he’s still hard and impossibly huge inside of her.
Then she feels fucking boneless, spent for the second time and pliant as she leans down and lets out a loose chuckle as Ziggy holds her to him and turns them back to the starting position, her legs this time resting on the back of his as he drives into her.
“ Fuck, that’s it ,” he says, desperate to follow her, drawing twin groans from them when he comes, endlessly, continuing to thrust inside of her until neither of them can handle it any more and he has to pull his softened cock out of her and rolls over onto his back beside her.
They lay there for seconds that drag on in comfortable silence, no sound but their gradually even breath, before Ziggy starts laughing.
She glances over at him, looking as carefree as she’s ever seen him. She’d like to sit up, but moving doesn’t sound like the best or most necessary idea right now. “What is it?” she asks him.
“We didn’t even make it to the fuckin’ bed and it’s three feet away,” he tells her.
And the thought hadn’t occurred to her, but now that it does, she finds herself laughing with him and having her own epiphany.
“You still have your shoes on,” she tells him.
He doesn’t glance down for verification, just nods once, still grinning, and closes his eyes as he throws an arm over his eyes and just kicks off his shoes, the pants pooling around them, and turns to face her.
“The question is,” he says, “Do we want to stay here?”
She doesn’t answer, just leans up to kiss him, and from there they end up back in a heap, legs tangled together, feeling as free and contented as it’s possible to feel. And if they fall asleep here and wake up sorer than usual, it’s nothing to worry about.