Page 59 of Taste

I banged into him, one long drawn-out thrust as his body tensed up in my grip.

“I want you to do this to me one day. Next time.”

“I will, promise. Now fuck me.Harder.”

Pulling out, I had to catch my breath before I once again slammed into him and he roared into his fist. “More.”

Another one, making the glass pane creak. I reached down, getting him off with some swift strokes of his cockhead, just the way he liked it.

“Gonna…” he whined, as I gave him more of what he’d so eloquently asked for. My cock. My heart. My taste on his tongue.

His body was like a coiled spring, his fingers grasping for mine as his orgasm rocked through his skinny frame, and again, as I continued to chase my own. It didn’t take more than a few clumsy thrusts before my body released into him, my knees buckling under my weight as I drooled against his silk-slippery back. His fingers still grasped for mine as I smeared his come all over the window.

“God, you’re amazing.” His voice was barely there, but it didn’t matter. I knew all the words he was thinking. I was thinking them too.

“Oh, Mark,” I whispered. He squeezed my sticky fingers in response and pushed himself gently away from the window as my length slid out of him.

“You got a tissue?”

“Nah.” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “No handy curtains here either.”

“Probably a good thing.”

“Here, use this.”

“Antibacterial surface wipes?” He stared in disgust at the packet I offered. “I’m not wiping my arse with those. Almost as bad as using hand sanitiser as lube.”

“The bottles were surprisingly similar,” I grumbled in my defence. It had been an easy mistake to make in the dark. Luckily, the smell had alerted me as I’d smothered my condom-clad dick in the stuff.

“Darling, it was funny. I’m sure my arse would have stung like anything though. I still love you.”

And there was my Mark. Smiling and laughing, stepping out of boots and jeans and some multicoloured underwear that he bunched up so he could wipe my seed from his bum.

It wasn’t funny, but I still chuckled, trying to rearrange my own clothing, him busy folding the now disgraced briefs up into a neat little parcel, which he promptly stuck in my jacket pocket.

“A small souvenir,” he said pompously. “Pass those antibac wipes. I should probably wipe my spunk off the window. DNA testing and all that.”

“We should probably wipe the finger marks off the window too. You know…cover our tracks.”

“Suppose.” He turned around and caught my face in his hands. “Not that I’d ever deny anything. If anyone asks, I’m going to say you’re mine, just so you know. I’m not going to keep this a secret, not now. Not ever. Is that good with you?”

“Absolutely.” I smiled. Because it was. What we had here was insanely, wonderfully good.

* * *

I went to find him, hours later, simply because I missed him. I needed another dose of his smile, a sniff of his neck, anything to calm the anxious butterflies in my stomach. I took the back route, entering the kitchen through the storage areas, being greeted by people whose names I’d never bothered to remember. Now though, the lady in charge of the stores was waving cheerily, calling me by my first name. Adam stood by the sink, looking like he’d had a run-in with a slasher.

“What happened?” I was already trying to turn him around to rescue him from whatever catastrophe had run him over with…tomato sauce.

“Bleeding children’s party out front. Christening, apparently. Small things with a perfect aim. Kid didn’t like my ketchup bowl. He wanted a proper bottle.”

“He chucked it at you?”

“Yup.”

“Need me to have a word?”

“Nah. Mark’s got them eating out of his hand, and to be honest, the parents were mortified. I just need to get the flipping ketchup out of my hair and find a clean uniform somewhere. Darn. Mrs Winter will kill me. I was meant to return the last one I borrowed, and I think I leant it to some temp who never gave it back.”

---