Gideon goes still and quiet, wide-eyed, almost deer-in-the headlights.
“Can I?” I ask, running the pad of my thumb along the underside of his shaft.
“Andi,” he says, and he sounds rough. “You don’t have to.”
It’s not the response I was expecting, and now I’ve gone still and quiet, except my hand is still around his dick.
“I know,” I finally say. “I’m volunteering.”
Great dirty talk, there.
Gideon leaks a little more, a bead of translucent white welling at the tip and sliding down the underside of his shaft. He swallows twice and glances from his leaking dick to my face and his expression is too complicated to read, but he finally nods.
“Yeah,” he says, and clears his throat. “Yes. God, please.”
I lean in and lick the droplet that slid down and then push my tongue into the slit. The noise that comes out of Gideon is obscene, a strangled gasp-growl that slides through me like lava. I push my lips over the head of cock, slowly, my hand still tight around the base. When I look up, he’s staring down at me with a flush on his cheekbones and his pupils blown in the dark, breathing like he’s just run a marathon, so I close my eyes, suck gently, and enjoy the way his gasp turns into a whimper by the end.
I pull off his dick with a wet pop that’s loud on purpose in the small, quiet room and look up at Gideon again, my mouth half an inch away from his cock. He’s beautiful like this and I can’t help wanting to draw it out: the way he’s half wide-eyed and ready to beg, half coiled, pulsing power, all pleading and demanding and ready to lose his mind.
Gideon doesn’t say anything, but he reaches one hand down, cups my jaw, slides his thumb along my cheekbone in an echo of earlier, when he was the one on his knees. I tilt my head into his hand, eyes on his, and he swallows hard and moves his thumb until he’s caressing my bottom lip. When I flick my tongue against it I swear his cock twitches in my hand, and then Gideon presses down softly, opening my mouth, his own breathing going ragged.
It doesn’t take much for the head of his cock to touch my lips; the tiniest lift of his hips and he’s there, leaking against my lip, and there are no words but this is Gideon asking me for what he wants, telling me, so I open my mouth and take him down as far as I can.
He throws his head back so hard on a moan that he hits it against the wall behind him, but he doesn’t seem to notice so I keep going, sucking and licking and stroking with my fist around him. I can’t swallow him but after a bit every time he hits the back of my mouth he swears, and God, it’s good: Gideon louder and louder, losing control, letting himself get lost. He keeps one hand gentle on the side of my face, like he needs to feel me, the other clutching the back of the couch. His hips move in desperate little twitches and my own thighs are clamped together like it’ll do anything about how turned on I am. For half a second I try touching my clit, but I’m nowhere near coordinated enough.
“Andi,” he whispers, rough and choked-off, a little while later, and I push my mouth down onto his cock and look up. He’s wide-eyed and open-mouthed and flushed. His cock twitches and Gideon makes a broken whimper, and I pull off just in time for him to come on my neck in a hot rush.
I stroke him through it and now he’s fully gone, thrusting up into my hand with his head thrown back, moans echoing from the ceiling. Neither of us stops until he’s going soft and suddenly flinches when I stroke him again, so I take my hand off and sit back on my heels, trying to be subtle about looking around for something to wipe myself off with. That wasn’t exactly my plan, but I also didn’t exactly have a plan, so this was as good as anything. At least my hair was pulled back.
“God,” he finally says when he unclenches his fist from the couch and opens his eyes to look down at me. “Jesus.”
Then his eyes fix somewhere around my collarbone and go a little wider.
“Oh,” Gideon says, and his face does something, and he inhales sharply, and all that is very, very interesting. “Shit. I’m sorry. Um—”
I roll my eyes at the sorry, and he doesn’t say anything, just smiles sheepishly before glancing around and then pulling off his shirt.
“Here,” he says, and leans forward off the couch to wipe me off gently from my throat and down my chest, and the whole time he’s got this look on his face. When he’s done he kisses me gently, still sitting above me while he’s on the couch and clothed and I’m kneeling on the floor and topless.
“Hold on,” he says when he breaks the kiss, stands, and walks away. The floor’s hard, so I flop onto the couch myself and when he gets back, he’s got a washcloth in one hand and his dick is back inside his pants.
“Ooh, a gentleman,” I say, half-teasing, and Gideon frowns a little and huffs out a breath as he sinks his knee between my legs and braces one arm next to my head.
“Well,” he says, all frowny and pleased and embarrassed, and then he’s over me and gently wiping the last sticky traces off of my skin, his clothed thigh brushing mine. “Sorry, it’s cold.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell him, tilting my head back and letting Gideon clean me off, thorough and gentle. The cloth is warm where he touches it but I shiver as soon as he lifts it away.
“Cold?” he murmurs.
“A little.”
I slit my eyes open so I can see his face, focused and quiet in the dark, the way his eyes track along my body. Then he ducks his head and presses a white-hot kiss to the damp-cooled skin of my neck, and I shiver again. Gideon makes a little thinking noise somewhere in the back of his throat, hmm, then does it again: my collarbone, my throat, my chest. When he swipes the cool cloth over a nipple I gasp, then sigh when it’s followed by his warm mouth.
I wonder, vaguely, how much he’s done this before, a question I still haven’t asked because I don’t care beyond curiosity. There’s something a little wide-eyed and wondering about him I find… appealing.
Then his lips are on the spot above my bellybutton, his beard prickling at my skin in a way that makes me feel it all over, and he’s looking up at me with those pretty, wide eyes.
“Can I?” he asks, fingers hooked under the waistband of my leggings.
“Yes. Definitely,” I say, and lift my hips so he can pull them off along with my panties in one very nearly smooth move. I’m still wearing socks, but my feet are cold so he’s going to have to deal with that.
Once I’m naked except for socks, Gideon just—stops. He looks. He’s on his knees on the couch, settled between my legs, still in pants and no shirt, and he looks. Even though he already came it’s slow and heated, and he drags his fingertips up the inside of my left thigh, over my hip, up my torso until his hand is flat against my sternum, and he lets his gaze follow. It makes my breath catch and my breathing quicken and my pussy throb, because apart from my aborted attempt at masturbation while I was getting Gideon off, it’s been very neglected so far.
I can’t help but squirm while he looks, arching my back a little and shifting my hips. I draw my own fingertip along the top of my right thigh while I watch his face, just to see what he does.
“Jesus,” he mutters, and chases my fingers with his own, all the way to my hip.
Then he slides his hand around the top of my thigh, squeezes, leans in, and kisses me before pushing my legs apart. I’m still on the couch so that means one goes over the back, my foot against the wall, the other on the floor. Gideon’s got powerful, rough hands, his calloused fingers an odd counterpoint to the softness of his mouth and the soft scratch of his beard as he trails open-mouthed kisses up my thigh. I’m squirming under his hands, his mouth, aroused as hell and so fucking wet this couch is on its way to becoming a slip-n-slide.