Series: The Master and the Auror

Title: Back Room

Author: DrusillaDax

The Master and the Auror: Back Room
by DrusillaDax

Now.

Now the War is over. We no longer have to fight. Voldemort has been defeated for good in February. That was five months ago, yet we're still counting the casualties. All of Voldemort's followers have been either taken or killed, but we have still people in hospitals being treated for all kinds of wounds, physical and otherwise. We still have missing people; most certainly they are dead. In the first days after our victory, we had hoped to find them, but we did not and it makes me mad... If the Minister had done his job, we wouldn't have lost so many people in that civil war...

After passing my NEWTs, I took the Auror-training course and in the following year, I joined a team. That was two years ago. The witch and the other wizard who worked with me were killed during the final battle at Hogwarts. The Ministry offered me to take a leave, but I refused...

Yet, I have to face it, I'm a wreck. Most of my friends and mentors died and I cannot live with that. I don't know why I'm alive...

*

This morning - August 1st - Harry Apparated in my kitchen and it was one hell of a surprise. I almost hexed him into the next millennium, but I stopped in time and offered him breakfast.

His girlfriend was visiting some distant relatives and he said he wanted to catch up with me... and, I guess, check that I was all right.

"It was my first Apparition, you know," he said cheerfully: he's of legal age now and can escape his Muggle relatives.

"Your first 'legal' one you mean," I teased him.

He blushed and we had a pleasant chat over breakfast. He wanted to make sure that his old friend was not on the verge of a breakdown, but he also really wanted to see me and spend some time with me and that touched me...

Then, our little chat took quite an unexpected turn and he asked me why I didn't go out more, why I didn't get laid to forget my problems. He said that he had let his hormones take over after the final battle and it had done a lot of good, so why didn't I do the same ?

I must have blushed to match a Gryffindor banner because he said that I was being a hypocrite since it was easier for me to find a gay back room than it had been easy for him, or Ron, to find girls to screw. He even suggested that I could go to Muggle gay districts if I didn't want to be outed at work...

Harry Potter was recommending cottaging to deal with... everything. I was flabbergasted. But he must have seen that I was giving it a serious thought because he grinned like a Cheshire-Cat.

Hot sex was not exactly what I wanted... Well, yes, it was, but not only... But it would do for starter...

When Harry left, he had a feral grin and he promised to come and visit again soon...

That green-eyed devil had sown a seed that I allowed to germinate...

Maybe I just need to feel for some time. Feel and not think and analyze and...

*

I went to the Ministry, took a week off and Apparated on the continent. I've picked a capital, so the Muggle gay district will offer me plenty of variety. I want alien pricks up my arse. I want to suck people I'll never see again...

I leave my hotel room and stroll down the streets.

Some unmistakable signs tell me that I've entered the district I was looking for: couples of the same gender walking in the streets, men cruising, rainbow flags, the bloke next to me pinching and caressing my arse at the bar where I'm waiting for my drink...

I look around and observe the scenery. It feels strange because I don't understand the natives and yet, there are signs and looks that require no translation.

The pinching bloke speaks some English and he offers a trip 'downstairs'. I hop off my stool and discover that he is smaller than me; he's got muscles like he's worshipping the Iron God everyday at the gym, his hair is so short it's almost shaved, he's blond and has thick hair showing on his arms, he's blue-eyed and he's wrapped in a tight grey T-shirt and black trousers. He's not my type, but he'll do for a quick fuck...

Downstairs, there are three doors. One that must lead to the actual cellar or storage room, one that pretends to be the ladies' toilet - and if there ever was a lady in there the Sorting Hat placed me in Hufflepuff! - and the gents'. Basing my observation on the moans I can hear from the ladies' over the music that drips from upstairs, it's the darkroom. The gents' serves as back room.

'Pinching bloke' seems to know the place by heart and he unscrews the lamp above the sink so that what little light we have comes from upstairs. The relative darkness will tell the other customers that the place is being used and, except for people going into the darkroom, we won't be bothered in that small cubicle where broken tiles compete with a cracked mirror and where the acrid smell testifying to the primary use of the room is not masked by the pitiful Muggle air freshener.

'Pinching bloke' unfastens his leather belt and lets his trousers and boxers fall on his ankles and he leans on the sink. Hard cheese! I've found a bottom! Oh! What the hell, I want to have it off!

I take some lube and a condom in my back pocket - the Muggles have that plague going on - and walk behind him. I look at him in the mirror and I see in his eyes that he wants it rough and he wants it now. There's no need for words: his eyes say it all.

I remove my brand new leather jacket and hang it on the hand-dryer that's out of order, I doff my white T-shirt and I almost rip his grey one off. I place lube and condom on the sink, I put his back to my hairless torso and I grab and squeeze his nipples tightly and mercilessly. He hisses with pleasure, but he gasps when I press his dick against the cold porcelain of the sink as I start rocking against him. I grab his erection: it's short - from the feel of it I'd say less than six inches - but thick; I imagine that his circumcised velvety helmet is Gryffindor red and the additional bonus is that it's a Prince Albert: I'd like to have it inside me, but it won't happen so there's no point in torturing myself with that wish. My thumb smears the drops of pre-come around his slit and he moans. I turn him around and make him kneel in front of me: if he wants me to fuck him, he'll have to suck me first. He gets the message loud and clear and he carefully unbuttons my trousers and slides them off to reveal the present I have for his throat; yes mate, I go commando when I dress in Muggle clothes! He licks his lips with anticipation and reverently strokes me. But that's not what I want and he swallows my shaft and one of his hands reaches behind me and he fingers me at the same time. His index moving to and fro in my arse, massaging the magic bud and his lips stimulating my shaft are almost too much. Then his tongue traces a vein up and down, licks my dick-slit and flicks and darts it; he slides his tongue across my helmet and sucks it as his free hand strokes the length of my shaft. I groan: that's what I want, but not him apparently. He takes the condom and rolls it on my aching and throbbing shaft. He stands up and resumes his initial position. I take the lube - Merlin! I hate that stuff! But I can't use magic, so I prepare him roughly and I feel my trousers pull down around my boots as I place myself behind him. He is eager to take me, but he is so tight that in spite of the lube it's not going to be pleasant for him... in the beginning.

With one hand I spread his cheeks and with the other I guide my dick towards his ring. When my helmet is in him he gasps and I feel him trying to relax. I cannot resist and as I caress him, allegedly to soothe him, I put a spell on him that will allow me to take him wildly without bruising him. I take hold of his hips and he sighs happily as I bury my shaft in him in one go. From his hips, my hands go to his shoulders to keep him in place as I thrust my dick into him. My balls slam against his arse with each thrust and I speed up. My wand hand goes south and I tease his piercing with a charm. 'Pinching bloke' is grunting incoherently and eagerly meeting each of my movements, however rough they are, he even tries to tighten himself to increase my pleasure. No contest, he's one hell of a fuck!

I increase my speed again, correct the angle to brush against his prostate with each thrust and use one more charm and he sends his come on the mirror and on his torso as I empty myself into the rubber.

I carefully slip out of him, tie the rubber and throw it away in the nearest bowl.

I'm still panting when I realize that he's put on his trousers again and that he's donning his T-shirt. He thanks me and pecks me on the lips before going back upstairs and out of my life.

I'm still half-naked in that dark and pitiful back room when I realize with absolute horror that I've had an audience all along... A wizard on top of it all! I really must be overworked not to have noticed that tall and dark man who was standing in the shadows, next to the staircase. Maybe I didn't notice him because he only wanted to enjoy the show I provided for free.

"And quite a show it was, Mr. Wood," he says, his mellifluous voice quite unmistakable.

I don't know if I'm more surprised at finding him here apparently reading my thoughts, discovering that he likes men... or at feeling my limp cock react and stir!

He's tall, lean, dark-haired, dark-eyed. He's wearing a white silk shirt, black leather trousers and shoes and a long black leather coat. His hair is slightly longer than the last time I saw him and he looks rested; true enough, I've only seen him at school or spying for the Order, but now he is free and I don't care if he's using a glamour, he's turning me on and my prick takes it on itself to greet my former teacher.

I want to be taken, poked, shagged, thoroughly fucked... And it seems that I might end up on his shopping list.

I kneel in front of him and shiver when he walks towards me.

I'm afraid I'm pouting when he takes my chin and forces me to stand up, but when he says, "I have some quirks, I hope you do not mind," I feel a grin spread on my lips and I shake my head frantically: I'm offered the opportunity to be fucked by one of the most powerful Slytherins and those are said to be extremely gifted, how could I object to any 'quirk'.

He murmurs something that sounds like 'Gryffindors' and orders me to undress fully... without magic. I obey as fast as I can.

There I am, bare arse naked in an alien bar miles away from my home, I'm hard as a rock and he is standing in front of me with a smile that makes me believe that he likes what he sees and what I'm proposing to give him.

"That's much better, boy. Now you can kneel and suck me off," he says.

I'm sure his voice is different, sexier; either that or I'm suffering from sex withdrawal symptoms!

He chuckles and I really do start wondering if some of the rumours about him were not true after all.

He says nothing, but smiles at me not unkindly and that urges me to execute his last orders. I touch his fly and simply gasp: what I thought was black leather is dragon hide, and dragon hide appears black to the eye only if it's worn by the person who killed the dragon. He sees my reaction and I see one corner of his delicate mouth rise. He's a bleeding powerful wizard, but the only thing I want is to show him that I can be good out of his classroom and that brings back the gentle smile on his lips.

I undo the buttons of his old-fashioned trousers tailored like those of seamen: those are trousers to fuck. I grin when I see that I'm not the only one who didn't put on underwear tonight, but I gulp when I take his prick out. I know he's tall, but that part of him is almost ill-proportioned, yet who am I to complain when I have over nine inches of thick, uncut and pulsing Slytherin dick in my hands ?! I don't know how I'm going to do that, but I want to suck him like none of his Snakes ever did! His smell is so intoxicating that I think I might come just breathing.

I finally lick his helmet and suck it before I start sucking. I try to relax my throat as much as I can, but I cannot take him all, so I resort to sucking the helmet, licking as much as I am able, caressing the veins and the ridge below the helmet with my tongue and greedily lapping the drops of pre-come leaking from his dick-slit.

Yet it seems that it's not enough for him and he orders me to place my hands behind my back. As soon as I've done so, he grabs my head and fucks my mouth. When I think that I might gag or pass out from lack of oxygen, he grunts and shoots his spunk. I swallow each spurt and obediently wait for him to give me more instructions. He recovers almost instantly and seems pleased by my submissive attitude. Just then, my brain registers that his prick is still in my mouth and... still hard. I can feel no magic on him so either he's a talented wizard or he's a Sex God... whichever I resume my sucking of his helmet. He makes me stop and makes me stand up before kissing me fiercely; with his tongue tasting of coffee and brandy he collects traces of himself in my mouth. He pulls me against him and the feel of his dick pulsing against mine and my skin against the leather of his coat, the silk of his shirt and the hot dragon hide of his trousers makes me come. His hand clenching in a stee!
l-grip at the base of my shaft gives me a dry orgasm. I am shivering against him, boneless, still standing because he's holding me while he's taken to fucking my mouth with his tongue. I'm still hard and he rocks against me and I feel my eyes roll backwards and I wonder, 'doesn't he need to breathe ?'

"That's all you Gryffindors can take ?" he teases me.

I regain control of some brain cells and retort, "No!"

I spot a fire in his eyes, as if he's trying to determine how far he can push me and I'm tempted to say that up the wall will do, but he says in his dangerous and silky voice, "No 'who', boy ?"

He wants to play that particular game ? All right. I'm ready.

"No, sir," I answer.

"How much can you take ?"

"All you want to give me, sir."

"Really ?"

"Yes, sir!"

He smiles as he resumes his kissing and wanks me slowly: that man is a teaser from hell and I think I might worship him before the end of the evening.

Besides, that little game is a brilliant idea: I can't imagine myself using his surname and even less his name. Not because he's a former teacher and a slightly older man, but because he... represents too much for me...

Merlin! I'll analyze that thought when I have some blood back in my brain and not exclusively pooling in my loins, groins and prick.

He stops and asks, indicating his throbbing dick, "Do you think you can take all of me in your tight arse ?"

I look at his organ and gulp for I've never had someone that well endowed in my backside, but I whisper, "I'll do my very best, sir."

He turns me around and like 'Pinching bloke' I lean on the sink. He doesn't use Muggle preparation; I clearly hear the spell he murmurs and I shiver with anticipation: it's a spell that will prevent me from bleeding or being bruised, but I will accommodate all his prick and will feel absolutely everything, pain and pleasure alike.

I see him in the mirror, fully dressed, and that arouses me even more, there is something totally decadent in that, and in knowing that Muggles might come down or get out of the darkroom and see us, though I guess he's cast a charm to protect our privacy... That thought makes him grin and his eyes do not leave mine when he says, "Ready ?"

"Yes, sir," I say, trying to catch my breath.

Thank Merlin, or Salazar, he's not a sadist, he just wants to have the upper-hand and I gladly surrender to him.

His helmet pushing past my tight ring makes me gasp. I'm not really tense, but he's just too much. Too thick and too long. I shiver again, afraid to fail him and I close my eyes in shame. When he places soft kisses between my shoulder-blades, I sigh in bliss. I know he's the best I've ever had and I'll never find anyone better... I just know it.

When I feel the tip of his prick leave my arse, I nearly weep... but he's not leaving me completely: I'm still in his arms. He spells some Muggle lube inside me and puts his prick back in position. I guess he's reinforced the first spell as well because the lube cannot all by itself account for my taking him in relatively more easily. When the ridge of his helmet brushes my prostate I moan loudly and he repeats the operation till I'm meeting every thrust and begging for more. Inch by inch, he ends up fully sheathed in me and his moan makes me incredibly proud. He kisses my neck and my bones vanish once more. His hair is so soft against my skin and he's so hot that I'm about to come, but he pinches my right nipple and the slight pain postpones my climaxing.

Saying yet another spell in a language I do not know, he starts pulling his dick out of me. When he's partially out, he slides back in. With each thrust he goes farther out and drives back in; finally he only leaves the tip of his helmet before sinking back into my arse and his regular rhythm makes me moan and then shout with pure pleasure. His wanking me in synchronization must help as well. He grinds in me harder and faster and I thank all the gods that we're wizards otherwise his organ would have split me in two and I would be a fucked-up wreck by now. His grunts against my back seem to indicate that he doesn't find me boring after all.

He drives his prick in me even harder and when he spills his seed in me I think I'm going to come as well. Yet, this time he doesn't clench his hand around my shaft: he grabs my balls and doesn't allow me to climax. He's giving pleasure and pain once more.

He eases his prick out of me and casts a Cleaning charm on the both of us. As I'm still painfully erect and wondering if he's going to leave me in that state of arousal, he says, "Would you like to take this to a bed, Oliver ?"

My heart leaps with joy: he's not done with me!

"Yes, sir!" I answer instantly.

He kisses me and caresses my cheek and declares, "That little game is fun for some time, but I'm neither an old paedophile, nor a warranted S&M master and since you're no longer my student I'd like you to use my name... especially if I'm taking you to bed..."

Merlin! It feels strange, but some of the Gryffindor courage comes back to me and I ask, "Will you let me come if I go to bed with you, Severus ?"

He laughs. I had never seen him laugh and I want to make him laugh every day - what am I saying ? I'm not enough for him...

There are sparks in his eyes and I know that this night is going to be unforgettable...

He takes his wand out of his sleeve and puts my clothes back on me by magic. We're both impatient to go to bed apparently.

I put the light bulb back in place and we take the stairs.

When we're back in the bar on the ground floor, he possessively drapes an arm around my shoulder. That's only then that I notice that the place is damn quiet... As we walk out people wink at me and start clapping. I do wonder why and he whispers in my ear that it's a variant of the Sonorus that he had cast on the back room, not a Silencing spell, and I feel my cheeks burn as he drags me out...

I will never dare to go back in that bar in my entire life!

I follow him in the unknown streets, apparently, we're going back to his hotel, not mine. But when we reach an old building, I realize that we're not going in a hotel: he must have a flat here!

"The only extravagance in my entire life," he explains as he opens the door and lets me go in first. In front of me there's a small paved courtyard and staircases on the left and right; he indicates the stairs on the right. I climb the old spiral staircase with a forged iron railing, its wood as been recently polished and that smell reminds me of school somehow. Being there with him has a 'forbidden fruit' quality that I quite enjoy...

He stops me on the second floor. There are two doors on the landing.

"Which one ?" I ask.

"The one that pleases you, the whole floor is mine," he answers with yet another of those amazing smiles.

I blink furiously and let him open the first door. He goes in first and turns the light on; I follow him and close the door behind me.

"You don't mind a small test, do you ?" he wonders.

I shake my head, totally at sea, but trusting him.

"Aurora! I've brought a visitor," he calls.

A Siamese cat elegantly walks in. I crouch and offer her my hand so she can smell and inspect me. Her nose is moist and cold and she sniffs my hand; I gently take her in my arms and she purrs as I caress her.

"Do we allow him in ?" he asks his cat.

She purrs louder and to thank her I rub my nose against hers. Aurora and her master seem to appreciate my reaction.

He takes off his coat and hangs it on a peg on the wall by the door. With a lick on my cheek, the cat says goodbye and jumps back to her basket to sleep some more; his eyes give me permission to take off my jacket before he takes me to his living-room.

"What are you doing in this town ?" he asks.

"Since I've lost my team I've been feeling down and... a... friend told me I should go out instead of brooding at home."

"Potter gave you sound advice," I blink, and he goes on with a smile close to a grin, "We survived the War, Oliver, the universe must have plans for us and there's no point in mourning our lives away."

I nod silently. We both have lost friends. And the Order lost him years of his life...

He pours two glasses of Lagavullin and invites me to join him on the beige leather sofa. I reflect that he must have a thing for leather and... he chuckles again. Therefore I seriously wonder if he can hear thoughts.

"Yes, I can," he confesses, quietly sipping the liquor.

I must look like a cherry lost on a bed of cream! I think of all the thoughts I've had tonight... I think of all the thoughts I've had in his classroom! Particularly when I sat for my Potions NEWT! Merlin! That day I had such a hard-on just looking at him! And while I was preparing the potion I had been assigned I imagined all the things I could do with him! If my heart doesn't stop beating, I'm going to die of shame, that's for sure!

"You're not the only one with that kind of thought in my classroom... But usually it's the Slytherins who want me to take them, and that happens during everyday lessons, not during exams. You truly amazed me by being able to concentrate on two things. You managed not to come, which would have badly embarrassed you, and your potion was perfect," he says.

"And you told me so. You've made me feel important that day!"

"I told you after all my Slytherins had left the room."

"I don't give a damn! It's got nothing to do with them. It was about me doing something perfect in your classroom and that was what was truly important," I answer with more passion than I had intended.

He smiles and his fingertips brush my cheek and I want to purr like his cat.

We sip our drinks in silence. I look around and try not to think too much because I don't want to bother him. The colours are light, the furniture modern creations; I bet few people have seen that side of him and I'm glad he allows me to see it. It's as if all he shows usually is a decoy, a well-planned sham he had to live when he was spying on Voldemort.

His ability to read thoughts must have saved his life many times and I'm glad for it. Even if he tolerates me only one night in his life, I'm proud to be granted that gift: seeing a glimpse of who he really is.

His ability to read thoughts must be even stronger than I had suspected because I find myself in his arms, being kissed like I've never been kissed. Here and now I decide to let my thoughts about him wander freely: I don't object to rewards like that!

The next thing I know he's thrown me over his shoulder and he's carrying me into another room... his bedroom...

I've had many shags in my life, but I didn't make it that often to that particular room - what with the War and an Auror schedule - and my prick finds the confinement of my trousers highly unpleasant. He puts me on the bed, walks to shut the curtains and with a flick of his wand he offs the Muggle lamp and lights hundreds of candles. I'm never going to last more than three seconds... if he lets me!

"Why don't you strip for me ?" he purrs.

His velvety voice has found a plug-in into my shaft. I stand up and obey. I take off my boots, doff my T-shirt, unbutton my trousers and take those off; I didn't really put up a show for him, but we're both past teasing each other. Besides, he seems to be enjoying the scenery.

He takes off his shoes and murmurs, "Why don't you help me undress now ?"

My prick twitches with eagerness and I almost fly into his arms. The combination of the feel of his clothes and skin and of his smell makes me moan in his mouth as his tongue charts me. I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, pull it out of his trousers, take it off his shoulders and he lets it fall on the ground; the sight of him, pale, hairless, well-toned makes me whimper. I cannot move and he shows pity by unbuttoning his trousers himself. He eases his proudly erect prick out and he lets the hide fall and he steps out of it. He is... breathtaking. Exactly the kind of man I lo... like.

I look at us in the mirror that's on the wardrobe and I squeak!

"Don't you like the tattoo ?" he asks mock-innocently.

I can't believe what I see on his right arse-cheek!

I don't dare to look at myself in the mirror, because if I can judge by his soft laugh, my face must be some sight...

"Do you have more surprises like that ?" I wonder in awe.

"The only other thing I couldn't get rid of is the scar I got when the Dark Mark faded," he quietly says showing me his left arm, "A reminder of my best blunder..."

I caress his arm and then I know I have to be honest. My prick softens and my eyes tingle.

"What's the matter ?" he asks gently.

"I didn't bring my wand, could you please lift the Concealing charm I've put on my back ?" I answer barely above a whisper.

He grants me that wish and sees the scars. He gasps in horror and touches them and he simply knows. He knows that this is the work of Death Eaters, a souvenir of the day when I was taken and tortured...

Then I can feel his anger and that frightens me, but I needed to be honest. Yet, it seems that I misunderstood his anger because he says as kindly as he can, "Why didn't the Ministry contact me ? I could have made a potion that would have healed you in five minutes! Now it's going to be painful!... That is to say if you'd like me to heal you..."

"You could ?" my voice betrays my hopes. If I could get rid of those scars, another part of me would heal.

"Would you like me to ?"

I nod.

"It will be painful... Really painful," he warns me.

"I trust you. My superiors told me there was nothing to do and I believed them. I guessed I could have owled Poppy Pomfrey, but I never had the guts..." I tell him.

He gently kisses me, both our erections gone now.

"Do you know who did that to you ?" he asks.

"He had grey eyes."

"Of course! Lucius!" his voice is so angry that I shiver.

He takes his wand and spells us into clothes: I'm in a bathrobe, he's wearing his Hogwarts attire.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be gone twenty minutes," and he Disapparates.

When he Apparates back he finds me sprawled on the floor of his kitchen playing with Aurora. That makes him smile, but I can see that he is uncomfortable about what he's planning to do.

"I trust you," I repeat.

He places a phial of potion on the counter and says, "I'll have to reopen the scars in order to heal the wounds of the dark magic that has been made on you. It's going to be as painful as when it was done."

I hate those scars so much that he could conjure Malfoy back from the dead and I would not object. Besides, he's helping me, not about to torture me for hours on end.

He sighs, but he heals me.

When I regain consciousness, I'm naked in his bed under the covers and he's wearing the bathrobe and lying above the covers.

I fear that I might have lost my one chance with him and my heart forgets how to beat properly.

I can read surprise in his eyes, surprise because I'm still attracted to him after he's made me re-live a trip in hell. I feel like killing all those who have trained him into believing that all he did was bad.

I want to give him pleasure and warmth and...

He stands up to disrobe and I shove the cover down. We're both hardening and he comes back onto the bed. I'm still feeling dizzy and it goes on as his wand hand starts stroking my shaft. He positions himself between my legs and sucks me. He swallows me entirely and I can feel his gifted tongue licking the pulsing veins and occasionally probing my dick-slit. His hair brushes against my thighs and suddenly I feel two of his fingers buried in me past my ring. He alternates rhythms on my dick and in my arse and I try to warn him that I'm about to... but he looks at me, with something I cannot read in his eyes and I yell as I shoot my white load in his mouth. When he's through licking me clean like a cat would, I am properly boneless.

He steals a kiss and tasting myself on his lips starts making me hard again. He doesn't make fun of my eagerness and even seems to enjoy my reactions to him.

He caresses my prick once more, but all his attention goes to my ring: he spreads my legs, my cheeks, stretches me open, and when I think he's going to fuck me with his fingers, I feel something soft and wet in me. He's licking me! No one has ever done that to me and I wonder why! It's fantastic. He darts his tongue in and out of my arse and I think I might come again, but his glorious tongue leaves me and is replaced by his fingers, one - not enough -, two - tickling away at my prostate -, three - feels like heaven -, four - yes! I'm ready for him now!

I'm about to roll on my belly, but he pushes me back and puts my legs on his shoulders and says a few spells that prepare me to accommodate and take him all inside of me. His helmet pushes past my ring and inch by inch he enters me. When he's completely in me, I think that I'm going to send flowers to Hooch for the thorough training she gave us. He smiles and I squeeze my arse muscles around his shaft making him gasp: that's his cue to move; and he does. Slowly at first, withdrawing and slamming back in. As he increases his rhythm, he grabs my leaking organ and strokes me. Wanking and thrusting speed increase and we both moan incoherently. All I can do is caress the arm that holds all his weight off me and invite him to invade my mouth as well.

This is all too much and I shoot my load between our torsos; he goes on milking me. I clench my muscles around him and that takes him over the edge and shouting my name he comes in me shooting thrice.

Still trembling he withdraws. When he stops panting, he cleans us and after another kiss we fall asleep in each other's arms.

*

My... lover finally wakes up and he sees me half-sprawled on his torso. He does not move, does not speak. He does not allow me here explicitly, but he does not ask me to leave either...

Maybe I can stay a little longer with him and then maybe...

Maybe...


Finis