Mixed Message Pedant Gives Mixed Messages.

Gonna try to keep this short because I should go to bed soon.

I saw The Pedant today. He texted me ahead of time that he wasn’t feeling too great and thus would like to maybe do lunch and a walk instead of coming back to my place. I’d been kind of hoping/assuming we’d fuck, so this was a bit disappointing, but I was still looking forward to seeing him. I got myself off a few times beforehand (thank you, There’s Something About Mary, for giving me that idea…) and went forth.

And we did walk, and we did have lunch (during which, ironically, The Pedant and I were talking about dating in general and he lamented how “most” women say one thing and mean another…).

And I walked him to his bus stop and he said “Would you like me to walk you home?” And I said yes. He used to walk me to my door back when I was living with Minx and consensually seeing The Pedant on the side, actually, so this gave me a lovely feeling of nostalgia. Also I hoped maybe we could make out a bit at my door the way we did in those days. The Pedant is usually really restrained in public when it comes to physical affection, and my two orgasms had taken the edge off my need for him but I still wanted perhaps a bit more closeness than I was getting.

On the way home he offhandedly noted that he’d stepped in something sticky and said that he’d have to leave his boots in my hallway so as not to track whatever it was into my apartment. And that is how I found out that he was planning on coming up, not just saying goodbye at the front door of the building.

Or at least, he was maybe thinking of coming up. At my front door he hesitated and I said “Did you wanna come up and say hi to the cats?” He acquiesced.

The thing about The Pedant is that, although we have amazing chemistry and love fucking each other, he can wall himself off when he needs to. Like occasionally he’s needed to come by just to pick up something he left here or drop something off on his way elsewhere, and on those occasions he is strictly business. Standing close to him doesn’t make him all prickly-aware of my proximity like it usually does when he first comes up to my apartment. Brushing the side of his neck with my thumb doesn’t make his breath hitch. I go to kiss him and he eludes me, or gives me a tight-lipped and distracted peck.

And he’d said numerous times that he had to get going soon so he could go home and go to bed (he has to get up at 4am for work). So I assumed that he’d turned off his sexual side, and did not presume to make a fool of myself by hitting on him.

I had to pee as soon as we got home, and when I got out, The Pedant was in the bedroom lint-brushing the cat hair off the bed. So he was staying long enough that he wanted to sit down a bit, I supposed. I sat on the far side of the bed, out of range of his ministrations, and watched him fastidiously de-fur the fitted sheet. Then he lint-brushed my pillows, which seemed incongruous with the idea that he was only there to socialize, but there was still no prickly aura of about-to-fuck in the air so I decorously kept my distance.

Finally, The Pedant gently scootched the cats out of the bedroom, closed the door, and sat down on the edge of the bed. And placed his glasses on the dresser, which, okay, fuck it – I’m going in.

I was sitting sort of behind him and when I tentatively reached out and petted his hair, all pretense of civility collapsed and the Pedant immediately started gasping and moaning in a totally abandoned way. I kissed the spot on his neck that I know he loves. When I went to run my fingers through his hair (rather than just petting the surface), he must have expected me to grab it and yank his head back, and he automatically gasped and threw his head back even though I hadn’t pulled. I duly grabbed a fistful of his hair so as to meet his expectations.

So now I’m behind The Pedant, trapping his head by the hair with his whole torso freely accessible to my free hand. So I twist his head around the kiss him and  wrap my free arm around him and find his nipples through his shirt (they’re tiny btw, and relatively flat so it’s lucky it had been chilly outside). I loved being behind him like that with the whole front of him open for my perusal. I need to do that more often.

The Pedant wasn’t making any move to take my or his clothes off; I was tormenting his nipples through his black turtleneck. Part of me honestly loved the idea of just getting him all fluffed up and then sending him home. I mean, he’d told me pretty clearly that he didn’t want to have sex and had to go home soon, and yet here he was, seeing pretty much like he wanted sex. So which opinion of his should I go with? Would he resent me if I kept going and drew him further into this? Would I have the will power not to?

But y’know…The Pedant had totally goddamned starfished from the very first touch of my hand. Maybe he wasn’t signifying that he intended not to go too far; maybe he was just dressed because his damn arms don’t work. So I yanked his shirt out of his pants (making him gasp, as all sudden violent movements do at these times). He helped me get it the rest of the way off. Then I physically wrenched him around by the shoulders and pushed him down on the mattress (face up), which made him give a long string of whimpers. So he liked that much, at least. I straddled him and teased him for a bit and then finally, with my hand around his throat and my face so close that he would feel my lips move when I spoke, I murmured “Do you want me to fuck you?” The Pedant was in full-on non verbal mode, and just nodded and made a vague squeaking noise of anticipation. “say it,” I said, and finally he managed to whisper “I want you to fuck me.” So I took my clothes off and got out the wrist restraints while The Pedant quickly shucked off his pants and underwear, and I bound The Pedant’s wrists to the bed and then rode him. Often The Pedant makes a point of burying his face in my chest at the moment of climax, but today he was less inhibited and I got a front row seat on his gorgeously tormented expressions. That thing he does after coming, where he’s all shuddery and shaking? It doesn’t just sound like crying, it looks like crying, too, in his face. But without shedding any actual tears. He’s fucking beautiful.

He pulled me against him for snuggles but shortly after that I demanded that he help get me off, which he did, and very well. More cuddles ensued, during which I shuddered with aftershocks and quietly told him I loved him (still nothing back, of course). Obviously I would have stayed warmly, post-coitally entwined if it were up to me, but I didn’t want The Pedant to resent me later for keeping him too late. I started gently prodding/petting him and telling him “I can’t let you sleep for too long. I know you have to get home.”

He murmured “thanks” and then something indistinct that my brain took a moment to parse as “Just hold me right now” so I settled in next to him and wrapped my arms around him and he accepted this with obvious pleasure.

A short while later I endeavored to wake him up again, gently, through pettings…and my touch made him moan. I ended up fucking him again until he told me he didn’t think he could come a second time. Still worth it for the lovely desperation and sounds I got from him. The sounds etc. always dwindle after a while when he’s not going to come; earlier on, when he was really howling and desperate-seeming, I even dismounted and told him I wanted to go home that way, suffering for me. I didn’t have the willpower to actually do that, though, when there were still hot sounds to be drawn from him. Plus he was still just lounging around in bed, not getting up or making any more to put clothes on. So, fuck it, I hopped back on until he told me to stop.

Anyway. I’ll admit I was hoping that my incredible animal attractiveness would break The Pedant’s will and make him fuck me despite his best intentions, but I hate how he doesn’t tell me when things have shifted. I would imagine he had designs on me of a sexual nature the moment he offered to walk me home, so why not say “time for a quickie?” instead of maintaining every step of the way that he really must be going? Like I really don’t wanna fuck him and then have him feel resentful that I kept distracting his still-dressed-until-I-look-his-clothes-off self. I don’t think he’ll blame me for this, and honestly think he kinda does this shit on purpose to build sexual tension for himself. But we’ll see.

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