It had been around two weeks since The Pedant’s last visit and I was starting to really get to a critical point of craving his nekkid body, so I texted him the other day asking when I could see him next. He said probably not for another week or two (noooooooooooo…!) but when he detailed what his schedule was looking like, he mentioned that he had the next day off.
So I was like “can you come over and crash tonight after work? I don’t work tomorrow until the evening” and he was like “yeah but I’ll have to leave in the early afternoon tomorrow” and I was like “that’s fine. Get your ass over here.”
He would not be coming over straight from work, though; he had to go home first. Lord only knows what-all he was doing there (well, part of it was printing out my impassioned “this is how fucked up I am and why I need money” plea to send to the disability benefits people – his printer works, mine doesn’t, and I preferred not to have some clerk at a Mailboxes Etc. print out my personal business). Anyway long story short he got here at 2am. And apparently he gets up at 4am to get ready for work, so he would have been awake for almost 24 hours by that point.
Normally, I’d be second-guessing the shit out of everything here – like, feeling as though he surely would prefer to stay home and sleep but came over because he felt obligated. Here’s what I’ve realized about The Pedant, though: he is a blunt and self-centred motherfucker. I mean, I’ve known that for years but it’s taken a while for the implications to fully sink in: if he had changed his mind about coming over, he would have told me. He doesn’t seem to go through all the steps of “but the other person will be disappointed and maybe it won’t be that bad to stay up so long and I’m probably just blowing my tiredness all out of proportion oh fuck it I’ll just go” that I would go through in a similar situation. He seems to basically just do what he wants and not do what he doesn’t want. And this means that sometimes my feelings get hurt, but it also means that I don’t ever have to worry about whether he really wants to do a thing.
Nonetheless I prepared myself mentally for the possibility that he would arrive here and just want to crash, no sex. I prepared myself physically for it, too, by getting myself off before he arrived so I wouldn’t be too thirsty for it. When he got here, though, his hello kiss had some really aggressive tongue in it so I guess he was gung ho for the fucking and wanted to make sure I knew it.
We wasted no time getting down to it once we got upstairs. It was actually sort of hilariously awkward and businesslike, in a way…we just both went into the bedroom and shooed the cats out and shut the door and stood in the middle of the floor smiling bashfully at each other like “Well, I guess it’s time to have the sex.” And then in my usual suave manner I launched myself at him and started kissing him and it was on.
I saw, peripherally, that he was fumbling with his shirt (or maybe just telegraphing to me that he wanted me to take it off – he tends to go passive when we make out). I yanked the hem of the shirt out of his pants and he gasped and put his arms up so I could pull the shirt over his head. And then kept his arms raised as we continued making out. I have no idea what the thought process was, there – was he so far into starfish mode that he forgot to put his arms down? Was he pretending that I’d tied his wrists to a fictitious anchor point in the ceiling? Was he wanting me to have access to certain parts of his body? I caressed him from his elbows down his inner arms to the sides of his ribcage and it didn’t make him react in any special way so I dunno.
Soon enough we were in our usual configuration – him on his back on my bed, me riding him and playing with his nipples. And here’s an odd thing: he made a whole shit-ton of eye contact through the whole fuck. Once upon a time he was so much the eyes-closed-at-all-times guy that I felt like an entirely extraneous prop for whatever fantasies were playing out in his head – I could have been anyone, really. I would grab his throat, sometimes, and snarl “eye contact” as he was about to come, just to try to force him into being an actual participant in the sex instead of someone I was doing sex to. And he would look at me briefly when I did that. But it was clearly very awkward for him.
As time went on and we grew closer, he would sometimes open his eyes during sex – but usually when he saw that I was looking back at him, he’d pull my face into the crook of his neck (if his hands weren’t tied down) or aggressively kiss me or do some other thing to kind of deflect.
But now the shoe is on the other foot because the other night he was looking into my face a lot (in between tossing his head around on the pillow with his eyes rolled back to only the whites…he’s been unwittingly playing the part of porn goddess in his reactions lately and I totally dig it) and I found it somewhat unnerving. Mostly because I felt self-conscious about being comparatively expressionless. Here was The Pedant flinging his head all around and moaning and gasping and making that astonished face that some people get during sex (and which I find hot but also kind of funny because we’ve had sex probably dozens of times now and you’d think he would not be surprised by what it felt like) while I…quietly and unblinkingly stared at him like a gigantic perv. I was not lost in the sex the way he was. Maybe I was lost in it in my own way – the way of focusing on his pleasure and drinking in his responses – but I wasn’t lost in it the way he was. And I felt caught out, and wondered whether The Pedant would realize that I always spend all our fuck-time just impassively staring at his face and he’d get all weirded out. Although he did the semi-continuous eye contact thing again the next morning so it’s probably fine.
But yeah. This time I was the one clumsily trying to deflect his gaze elsewhere.
After a few minutes of me thrusting, The Pedant said “You’re gonna m-make me come…” which usually means he’d like me to ease up so things last longer, and indeed I wanted them to last longer, too. So I immediately took my hands off his nipples, stopped thrusting, and held still. And felt The Pedant’s cock suddenly buck inside me as he went over the edge, anyway (he…needs to be a little more proactive with these “you’ll make me come” warnings…). It has been my experience that a guy can orgasm without me moving, but it’s better if I continue actively stimulating him – and I’m all about giving The Pedant the best possible orgasms. So I started thrusting again, slowly and deliberately, and brushed my thumbs over his nipples, and that gave him the extra jolt he needed to get to that point of delicious full-body shuddering that I so love to see.
And then he immediately fell asleep, and I let him, because he must have really needed it by that point. Watching and feeling him come had been a turn-on but I could wait for consummation. I had needed the closeness with him more than I needed to get off.
He never turned away from me all night – for the entire time that we slept, he was either facing me with his hand on me somewhere or lying on his back – and any time he rolled onto his back he put his arm out and gathered me up so my head was on his chest. So sweet.
When we woke up I got us some cereal because I was so hungry I thought I might die. If it weren’t for that, I would have just skipped to the fucking. As it was, I waited until we’d each finished our cereal before climbing on top of him.
I paid attention to just his left nipple for a really long time, and I was like “Ha ha, I’m gonna keep on touching just the one side until the neglected side feels like it’s gonna explode.” The Pedant said that’s not how it works with him. I was surprised because that’s totally how it works with me and I kind of assumed it was universal. “Maybe my OCD insists on symmetry in a way that other people don’t experience,” I mused out loud. In retrospect, though, I’m fairly sure that neglecting one side for a long time has made The Pedant just about jump out of his skin when I finally touched him there, so it’s possible he’s just not self-aware enough to know his own responses, or that I didn’t describe it in a way he could relate to, or something.
I put the restraints on The Pedant, anchored his wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed, and kept on playing with his nipples – not fucking him yet, just teasing him – and I said “what would it take to make you beg to fuck me?”
“Pretty much just keep on doing what you’re doing,” The Pedant said, his voice already a bit breathless and unsteady.
So I did, for a long time. And then I switched to gently playing with The Pedant’s cock until he was moaning in anticipation. And then I poured lube on the tip and spread it out with a few strokes. And straddled him and positioned his cock juuuuust at my front door – maybe letting him dip in by just half an inch or so – while fingering his nipples with the other hand.
“Do you want this?” I said, tapping the head of his cock against my, ah, doorjamb.
“Yes” The Pedant said, breathily.
“…Yeah?…” I prompted, making no move to put him inside me.
“Please,” The Pedant said. “Please. Please.”
And I grinned and thrust down around him, driving him inside me to the hilt and making him howl. Once again he was moaning and thrashing ecstatically (and making an amount of eye contact that I wasn’t equipped to deal with…) and it seemed like things were building nicely and then suddenly his cock slipped out of me. And slipped out again a few thrusts later. And a third time. And I was thinking “dafuq? Have I forgotten how to sex?” But then I realized it wasn’t me, it’s that he wasn’t entirely hard anymore.
“You’re a little bendy. Do you have to pee, maybe?” I asked.
“…Mmmmaybe?” The Pedant has said before that when he’s turned on he can’t always tell if he has to pee (but having to pee will fuck up the sex).
“D’you want me to let you out so you can take a washroom break?”
“Hmmm. Yeah. Probably a good idea.”
So I released him from the restraints and he went off and dealt with the peeing. I’m sad that the amazing sexual buildup got a wrench thrown in it, but so very happy that we resolved it like normal people. When The Pedant and I were first seeing each other he would never acknowledge to me that he was having erectile issues. A couple of times while I was giving him a hand job he went flaccid and didn’t even seem to be having fun anymore but when I asked “do you need a break?” he insisted that he didn’t. Now apparently we can just address it like it’s no big thing. I suspect that a number of The Pedant’s other partners were the type to feel like failures if they couldn’t make him come so he learned to always, always pretend that everything was fine so he wouldn’t have to deal with them getting upset. But years of me consistently being casual about it (“hey are you having an off day? We can stop if you want.”) have perhaps allowed him to feel safe being honest with me. I like that.
He returned from the bathroom and we snuggled and kind of gradually ramped things up again until we had picked up where we left off – him tied down (just his wrists this time, not the ankles), me riding him. And his orgasm – like most of them have been, lately – was a beautiful deep shuddery thing that was so intense to watch that it hit me right in the feels and I collapsed onto his chest and tried not to cry from feelings overload. In my peripheral vision I saw The Pedant sort of gently tugging his wrists against the restraints and realized he was tacitly asking to be let out of them. I undid the clasps and he immediately put his arms around me and stroked my back.
After a while I rolled off him and he immediately engulfed me with his body, putting his head on my shoulder and throwing an arm and a leg overtop of me. We dozed briefly but then I decided I definitely wanted an orgasm of my own and reached for the Hitachi (I’ve hung a basket on the side of the bedframe for it so it’s always within reach 😀 ). The Pedant made a sleepy little noise by way of encouragement and held me tighter. Pretty soon it became clear that I wasn’t gonna get anywhere on my own, though, so I tapped his arm and said “I’m tagging you in.”
“I want you to fuck me with this.” I handed him my favourite dildo, which I’d outfitted with a “handle” to make it easier for The Pedant to use on me (he’d requested this a few visits ago).
“Mmmmph.” The Pedant dragged himself up out of sleep enough to take the toy from me, slip it inside me, and begin moving it in and out. I thought he’d have to sit up in order to do this but somehow the angle worked out okay for him to do so while still lying half on top of me. I kept going with the Hitachi at the same time and in fairly short order I had a huuuuuuge orgasm that left me shaking and growling and crying. The Pedant always seems a little awed by my bigger climaxes. He wrapped himself around me even more so that I felt surrounded by his body; a safe, warm place to be vulnerable in. And then we dozed some more.
Eventually I decided that we needed to eat something – we’d been sleeping for a ridiculous amount of time and I wondered if partly it was a blood sugar crash. The Pedant and I were lying facing each other.
“I have chicken and salad greens. Want some?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” The Pedant murmured, and then immediately made a little petulant noise and glomped onto me, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my chest. Evidently he still needed to be close to me.
Something about the urgent way he’d clutched at me when he thought I was about to leave, and the way he’d curled up so small in my arms, made me feel fiercely protective of him. I wasn’t tired anymore, but I didn’t get up. I lay there awake, cradling The Pedant’s head in my arms and stroking his hair while he slept, for…I don’t even know. Maybe as long as an hour. I could sense, too, that he wasn’t entirely asleep. Not entirely awake, maybe, but definitely not entirely asleep. He was aware of the love I was trying to beam into him through my hands. He was receiving and reveling in it.
Eventually I did get up and make us some food, and I coaxed The Pedant out to the living room so we could watch NetFlix while we ate (I was introducing him to the show Master of None, which I think is fucking fantastic and which I highly recommend). After a few episodes The Pedant started saying that he should get going sometime soon. I gave no argument, nor did I try to stop him, but he never has been very good at leaving my company and that day was no exception. He made no move to actually get up or start getting dressed or anything. Also I mentioned that my work gig happening in a few hours was actually in the same direction as his house (usually we part in opposite directions) and I swear his face actually lit up. And so I was fairly sure he was gonna end up leaving with me, and I was right.
At one point I straddled him and started stroking his chest, trying to get another fuck session brewing, and he understood my intentions and said he was pretty sure he was still spent from before. “Not sure if warning or challenge,” I said, grinning and planting a kiss on the centre of his sternum.
“It’s an apology,” The Pedant said, which made me snort-laugh.
“Please be more adorable. You’re not quite killing me yet,” I said, smooching his face. And his expression was just…I don’t know. This sounds cheesy, but…electric, I guess. Electrified with the knowledge that I find him adorable; that I adore him. We’d been really, like, vibing off each other that whole day. If I’d said “I love you” to him he still likely wouldn’t have said it back because he’s weird about that…but he’s feeling it. I know he is. I’d been feeling it all day up to that point but in that moment it was coming off him unmistakably; almost comically obvious, like cartoon sunbeams.
I can’t remember if that was before or after we had a Big Serious Talk. The Pedant had mentioned a while back that a woman he’s friends with – and used to date – owns a condo and might need a roommate soon and that he was thinking of moving in there. Now he told me that they’d talked about this some more and that she was good with the idea…and that the prospect of sex was on the table, too.
And then he went off on a big tangent about how she has severe food allergies and he’s a good candidate for roommate-hood because he understands her allergies and is perfectly willing never to bring allergens into the house, etc., and I could barely even focus on what he was saying because the idea that he’d be essentially having a live-in partner was throwing my brain for a loop.
At the earliest reasonable opportunity I intervened on his stream-of-consciousness allergen monologue with “So hey the idea of you moving in with [potential roommate] and having sex with her is kinda bringing up some…stuff, for me.”
“I figured it might. That’s why I made a point of mentioning it long before it’s due to happen so we could talk about it.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Hooray! I didn’t screw things up this time!”
“No, you really didn’t.” I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. “So – with you talking not so long ago about wanting to move in with OtherGirl, and now this, I feel like I’m kind of a backup plan. Like what you really want is to live with someone, and I’m not compatible with you in that way but you’ll keep biding your time with me until the arrangement you want comes along.”
“No, no. Not at all. [Potential roommate] and I might not even end up having sex – I’m just saying it might be a possibility. But she could never be my primary partner. We’re too different in some ways and too much the same in other ways and it just never worked between us. In a lot of ways she doesn’t seem to understand or accept me, but I think you do. I consider you my primary partner. She would be a roommate that I occasionally sleep with, if that even happens. And she understands that I’ll be seeing other people, as well, and is totally good with me inviting other partners over and stuff, as long as we’re not naked in the common areas of the house.”
I asked him to confirm that bareback privileges will still be mine even if he and potential roommate start fucking, and he laughed and said “Is that what you’re worried about?” I said it’s not the main thing but it was on my mind. Because I like going without condoms, and he already yanked that away from me once without warning. The Pedant basically told me that those were extenuating circumstances – he was totally nuts over OtherGirl (I didn’t love the clear implication that he was more into her than me, but fair’s fair, I am not in love with The Pedant. I love him but I am capable of feelings many orders of magnitude bigger. So one day someone could very well steal my focus away from him – and my fluid-bondedness, if the new guy has had a vasectomy too. I believe that The Pedant and I are very much on the same page in what we feel for each other and how we’d like this to play out).
Pining for OtherGirl aside, The Pedant said all kinds of sweet and reassuring things about how well he feels it’s going with me, how I’m totally his primary partner, and that potential roommate is in no danger of disrupting that.
I get the feeling he had an epiphany from something I texted him a short while ago (haven’t posted it here yet but I will soon) – basically, that there are ways in which his lack of empathy (which is a thing people have accused him of and hate him for) really works for me. I think my saying that made him fully realize that I see him for who he is and I like it. I haven’t fallen for an imaginary, idealized version of him. I’ve fallen for him.
So that was a good talk. And then we showered together and left, him to go home and me to go to my evening modelling gig. Walking together to the bus stop, The Pedant told some anecdote about how Tim Horton’s frozen lemonade gave him food poisoning twice – and he was really pissed off the second time because there had been a really hot phone installation person doing some work in his office and he’d been going to ask for her phone number but stayed home sick instead and then she was gone. (“Really? That’s why you were pissed off at yourself? Not because you failed to learn from your mistake the first time but because you couldn’t get some chick’s phone number?”)
I don’t love The Pedant’s habit of going on and on about other women he finds attractive. Not because he finds them attractive but because he doesn’t gush about me like that. Kinda seems like bullshit to never compliment the person you’re with and yet tell them all about how hot other people are. But I don’t think I’ve ever clearly articulated this to The Pedant. So on the bus I was like “Hey, new rule: no going on and on about the hotness of other women unless you can go on and on about the hotness of me.”
“I didn’t realize I did that. Do I do that?”
“From time to time.”
“I would have thought my attraction to you would be obvious, considering the number of times I’ve told you I’m sexually spent and you’ve managed to wring another one out of me, anyway.”
“Yeah, and I’m not a person who needs effusive compliments all the time, really. But when a partner talks about his attraction to someone else and can’t or won’t tell me how attracted he is to me, it’s a pet peeve.”
“That’s totally understandable,” The Pedant said – which frankly surprised me. I’ve expressed irritation before with the way he gushes about other women and he’s simply said that he doesn’t get it because he’s not bothered by a partner gushing about other dudes. Maybe he just needed it framed a different way.
“Hey – do you talk to other partners about how hot I am the way you talk to me all about them?”
“Yes. If I’m bragging to anyone about how amazing the women in my life are, you’re the first one I bring up.”
So I guess his issue is that he has a hard time telling anyone compliments to their face, not that he doesn’t think well of me specifically and has nothing nice to say about me ever to anyone.
For the rest of the bus ride I was pretty much glowing, thinking of him bragging about being with me.
That’s about all I have to say about this visit for now.