It was around 5:30am when I finally got to sleep. Unfortunately, The Pedant has been setting the alarm on his phone for 8am lately (trying to add some kind of structure to his life as an unemployed person, I guess?) and forgot to disable it. His phone was sitting out in the living room; it took a while for the annoying sound to penetrate through my subconscious. The Pedant apparently didn’t even notice the noise until I grouchily poked him in the shoulder and said “What is that?”
He apologized and got up to turn the alarm off. I got up to take a pee. We convened back in the bedroom, where he lay on his back with his arm out, inviting me to cuddle up to him with my head on his chest, which I did. I fell back asleep, but not terribly deeply. I remember rolling over on my back, then onto my other side (with The Pedant glomming onto me in a new way each time) and fuzzily observing that I was rotating my body in increments and wondering jokingly whether I’d do a full barrel roll or two over the course of the morning.
I woke up around 10:30, which is disappointing because I’d been sproinging awake stupid early* all week long and had hoped The Pedant’s presence would cure this. I often sleep better when I have someone cuddling me – especially if that someone is a very deep sleeper, themselves. (Bastardcat is even helpful in this capacity sometimes, provided he snuggles me calmly and doesn’t keep pawing my face.) But nope, I was awake. And The Pedant seemed like he was waking up, too, or at least sleeping pretty shallowly. I think I must have woken up with my head on his chest again because I remember running my hand down the side of his torso (avoiding his nipple and stopping at his waist because I think it’s rude and possibly unethical to do sexual things to a sleeping person) and I didn’t have to shift around a whole bunch to do it. He gave a tiny little moan that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Just as I’d suspected, delaying his orgasm for a while had made him extra responsive; normally a caress there wouldn’t elicit any sound from him; it wouldn’t even register as sexual, just affectionate. But now…
I ran my hand over some more typically non-erogenous places: his arm, his belly, his thigh. He gave another sleepy little moan every time. I began to sense that this would lead to a fairly epic journey, so I went and took a pre-emptive pee break to make sure nothing would interrupt us once things got really good. When I returned, The Pedant had rolled over to face the wall – but when he felt me climb back into bed, he promptly rolled on his back again and stuck his arm out so I’d cuddle into his half-embrace and nestle my head onto his chest. I did so, and kept on running my hand over him – starting with innocuous places to get him warmed up a bit, and then finally sneaking up on one of his nipples. The minute he realized where my fingers were heading, he howled and arched his back in anticipation. He’s so sensitive when he’s turned on that I just barely touched the very tip of his nipple and he let loose with a whole series of sobbing moans. Which of course made me have to prop myself up on my elbow so I could do it again while teasing his other nipple with my tongue at the same time.
Pretty soon after that I straddled him and started kissing him. I kept teasing his nipples with my fingertips, and he clutched at my hips as he thrashed and arched and whimpered. Pretty soon after that I took his wrists (still clad in the restraints; he’d never taken them off) and clipped them to the bed, sensing that The Pedant was already at a boil from last night’s shenanigans and didn’t need the usual amount of warm-up time before sex. When I moved down to the foot of the bed he eagerly and immediately spread his legs so I could clip down his ankles, too. And then, of course, I condomed and lubed him and climbed aboard.
My god, it was everything I’d ever wanted and more. I enjoy being penetrated, sure, but mostly when I have sex it’s to get my partner off. I love the intimacy of feeling a guy orgasm inside me. The Pedant often can’t come during sex, for whatever reason (and doesn’t tell me it’s not happening for him, so I get bored and wear out my thighs trying). That day, though, his fever pitch of arousal carried through beautifully. He moaned and whimpered the entire time – not just when I’d thumb his nipples or grab him by the throat (although these things made him keen even more loudly…) but just from the feel of me thrusting and clenching around him. Normally my throat-grabbing of The Pedant is more decorative than anything, but that day I took a chance and applied firm enough pressure to really let him know who’s boss**. He loved it. I damn near thought he’d come just from me “choking” him, judging by the sounds he made. I think it was around that point – with my hand shoved up under his jaw immobilizing his head and my face inches from his – that he opened his eyes.
And suddenly, instead of us each being locked in our own little world during the sex as we usually are, The Pedant was right there with me. I’m pretty sure he made eye contact deliberately; I’m pretty sure he was seeking out that connection, that intimacy. He’s never done that before. The look in his eyes was…indescribable. Instead of feeling self-conscious like I did the time our eyes locked by accident, I felt powerful. I gave him a devious smile – an I’m-Gonna-Destroy-You-With-My-Fuck smile – and he breathlessly held my gaze for a long moment before closing his eyes and craning up to kiss me. So that was amazing. I don’t even feel like he closed his eyes to escape my gaze this time; I think he just shut them because it’s easier to focus on sensation that way. This deliberate eye contact is a huge, huge breakthrough for him/us and possibly the biggest reason the sex this visit was the best we’d ever had***.
Often, The Pedant’s orgasms don’t segue directly from stimulation…I mean the pattern isn’t simply closer-closer-closer-KABOOM. I’ve noticed it tends to be more like closer-closer-closerrrrrrrrrr…………………KABOOM. That day was no exception: his moans began to peak and just as I was wondering “Wait…was that the orgasm, or…?” his body went silent and tense for a long moment and then he catapulted over the edge with even louder, more fevered sounds. Even with his wrists and ankles secured, he was bucking so hard I had to fight to stay astride him. I thrust down around him hard and fast, wanting to milk out every last little twinge. The Pedant gasped “slower -!” (dammit, why do I always forget he likes it slow? He’s told me at least five times now…he must think I’m an idiot) and I complied. When I surreptitiously brushed one of his nipples with my thumb and he didn’t react, I knew he must be totally done. I unclipped his wrists without waiting for him to ask, and subsided on top of him.
The Pedant buried his head in my neck and shoulder for ages, breathing so heavily I almost wondered if he was having a little cry, as I often do after a particularly intense orgasm. It seems unlikely, though; I don’t think The Pedant is much of a crier. At any rate his climax had obviously affected him strongly, and it was hot. For quite some time his arms stayed motionless, up by his head where they’d been clipped; then he finally realized that I’d freed him, or he gained back enough strength to move, or whatever the case may have been, and he wrapped his arms around my back. We stayed locked together like that for a long time. He was still inside me, and occasionally I felt his cock twitch (on purpose?). Sometimes I’d give him a little answering clench. We didn’t speak.
Finally, The Pedant gently pulled at my hips, urging me to dismount. I did so – my thigh muscles complaining the whole way – and we collapsed into a snuggly heap. He suggested it was time for some breakfast, and asked me if I’d like him to help me tidy the apartment later. He said he knew how easy it can be to become overwhelmed by a big project like that but with an extra pair of hands it would go way faster and be less scary.
And just like that, I began to feel like I was falling for him again. Dammit.
More to come.
*”Early” as in “after only five or six hours of sleep.” I’m not referring to times of day here. My schedule is not typical.
**But not nearly enough pressure to stop his breathing; I know breath play is dangerous and I’m very cautious. Don’t worry!
***The other reasons being how passionate and turned on he was, the fact that many of the goings-on were mutual instead of him going all slack and passive while I pleasured him and then giving me “my turn” later, the fact that he stimulated me a whole bunch without me having to prompt him, and the way he went down on me with such gusto.