The Pairing(108)

“Until then,” Theo says, “I want you to be a good boy and take it.”

“Yes,” I say, more aroused than I’ve possibly ever been in my life. “Yes.”

They brace their pelvis against the back of their own hand and fuck me like they said they would, using the steady, relentless roll of their hips to guide their fingers in and out, fingertips skating over that sensitive spot inside me. Their other hand matches the rhythm, so that every time they push inside, their hips push me into the tight circle of their fist. I was right—they’ve never fucked me like this, never pinned me between two points of pleasure and held me there with their full strength. They’re stronger, surer, and I feel so fucking good beneath them.

“God,” Theo groans. “You’re such a little slut sometimes.”

My heart clenches, a weak, grateful sound breaking loose.

“You like that?” they ask. “You like when I call you that?”

“Yeah, yes, fucking—love it. Feels good. Feels like—praise.”

“It is,” they say in the lowest, gentlest part of their voice. “You’re so good. So sweet. Such a perfect slut for me.”

I let my mouth hang open so they can fuck all the sounds they want from me, one of my hands braced against the headboard to take it better. It’s so good like this, so good when it’s Theo, so good to be home in capable hands. Complex thought evaporates into sparkling firmament overhead, and far below, I bite the pillow and want only very simple things, to be held and fucked and told I’m pretty, to be good for the person I love.

“Theo,” I stammer, barely holding myself together. “Theo, I’m—I’m close.”

“Yeah?”

The last thing my body wants is for Theo to stop stroking me, but I find the fortitude to reach between my legs and guide their hand away, down the wetness I’ve been steadily leaking onto the sheets.

“Yeah.”

All at once, Theo’s hands and body leave me.

The parts of me that had gone pliant and molten instantly cool like volcanic rock. Hard with need, with intent, with a consuming desire to release everything that’s been locked inside me for so much longer than we’ve been in this bed. I gather myself, wanting to use my strength. I want to be the one giving. I want to hear Theo beg for me the way I did for them, to— Something light smacks into the side of my face.

I blink down at the bed. It’s a condom. The foil wrapper says, JEANS.

“I—I thought we didn’t save any of those.”

I turn to see Theo naked atop the sheets, propped up on their elbows with one knee bent, freckled cheeks red with exertion and a halo of sweat on their brow. They’re smirking, pleased with their performance and now their comedic timing.

“Fabrizio slipped me one before we left,” they say. “Come on, I wanna see you.”

In a second my feet are planted on the floor and I’m dragging them to the foot of the bed by their ankles as they laugh out a yelp of surprise.

“Is this the manhandling you were talking about?”

“Yes,” I say, standing between their legs, tugging them closer so their hips are nearly at the edge. “Come here.”

“Zut alors, I feel like a sack of flour— Oh fuck.”

I cut them off with a touch, the flat of my thumb drawing a blunt, smearing circle just the way they like, the way I did to that peach in Monaco. I bite back a swear when I feel how astonishingly wet they are, even though it’s the first they’ve been touched tonight. All this melting softness, all because of how much they enjoyed fucking me. I’m kneeling before I know it, half hunger, half supplication.

“What are you doing?” they demand, watching me on their elbows. “You’re supposed to fuck me.”

“Let me taste,” I say. “Please.” And God knows Theo will never deny me a meal.

I fill my mouth with that innate, vital bittersweetness of them, pull them between my lips and savor. My tongue dips briefly, indulgently—Theo moans—and I decide that’s enough to satisfy the craving.

“Thank you,” I say, adoring the crease of annoyance between their brows as I stand. I grip their hips, not quite pressing where they want me. “Did you want me to keep going?”

“Fucking cocktease,” they whine. My heart sings. “Do something, please.”

“I will, if you can be a good—” I pause. “What should I call you?”

Theo blinks, like I’ve asked them to solve my riddles three in the middle of sex.

“Uh—definitely not girl.”

“No, obviously. Boy?”

“Sometimes,” Theo says. They lower their gaze to the point where our bodies nearly meet, biting their lip at the sight of us. In a quiet, raw voice, they say, “I could be your bottom, if you want.”

My body answers for me, visibly twitching.

“Yeah?” I breathe out. “You want me to top you?”

Theo looks up with wide eyes, something wild and new in them. They nod fast and hard.

I press the condom packet to their lower lip.

“Then be a good bottom for me.”

With no further instruction, they rip the packet open with their teeth.

When I’m ready, I guide their hands to the backs of their own thighs, pushing their knees up toward their chest, and they catch on quickly to this too. A vulnerable blush spills like wine down their throat, but they don’t look away. They hold my gaze and open themself to me.