Page 62 of Sicken of the Calm
You know I’m not
Ezra
good fuck u r so perfect baby
wait for me
i’ll be over at 7
i’ll be thinking of u too
Me
:)
I roll my eyes as Ezra sends me aseries of lewd emoticons simply to ruin the mood. I set the phone aside,grinning at the ceiling, before looking down across my supine body. My dick hasgone down somewhat, but the need is still simmering inside me. I clench myhands in the sheets, hole clenching around the plug.
I am in for a hell of anunproductive day.
*****
Stupidly, I had expected Ezra tobe on me the moment I open the door. Instead, he simply smiles and kisses melightly on the lips, breezing in as if this is any other night. I gape at himfor a moment before snapping my mouth shut. I know Ezra’s game intimately bynow, but sometimes I wish he wasn’t so good at it.
I’ve been half-hard most of theday, even though I’ve become used to the feel of the plug inside me to thepoint that sometimes I barely feel it anymore. Still, the knowledge of itspresence and the anticipation of not only Ezra’s face-to-face reaction but whathe has planned for tonight, has kept me teetering at an edge that has metilting closer to impatience by the second.
“How was your day?” Ezra saysonce he’s divested of his coat, pulling out a Tupperware box and placing in thefridge. His tone is light and teasing, and it just makes me want to win at hisown game.
“Fine. How was yours?” I askpointedly, crossing my arms as I stand in the middle of the studio. Ezra turnsaround, leaning against the counter, his smirk undeniable.
“Oh, you know. Prettyuneventful.”
“Same here. My day was boring,really.”
“Mmm. I know how you feel,” hesays, his smirk turning sharp. I have to keep myself from biting my lip ordoing anything that might give me away. I must fail, however, because hisexpression widens. “I brought some pasta salad,” he says, indicating the fridgethat now houses his Tupperware box.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply. Ezrajust makes an uncaring sound of assent, watching me carefully, like he’s tryingto figure out exactly how to pin my wings to the board.
When he pushes off the counter, Ican’t help but tense, holding my breath as he comes closer. Just as I thinkthat he’s going to break first and touch me, he sidesteps me, throwing himselfon my wheeled desk chair. I turn around, frowning at him, and he grins back. Iclench my jaw but follow his cue, lowering myself carefully on the bed so thatI’m staring at the ceiling.
Ezra starts chatting away. Abouta lecture he had today, about the burnt taste in the coffee at the cart by thejournalism building, about a fucking meme he saw the other day. All the while,I glare at the ceiling. Despite the fact that the day has numbed the feeling ofthe plug, Ezra’s presence, his lack of action, seems to electrify it again. Ican feel the slight wetness around my rim from having just taken it out toclean and re-lube it.
Experimentally, I do what I’vebeen avoiding all day, pressing my ass down on the bed to push the plug in alittle deeper. I let out a slight breath at the sensation, the re-awakenedpleasure, chasing the feeling. I push back again, and again, and again, untilI’m undulating my hips slightly, grinding into the bed.
Belatedly, I realize that Ezrahas fallen silent. Not even the sound of the chair he had been spinning on addsto my increasing breaths. I open my eyes, blinking at the ceiling for a momentbefore turning my head to look at Ezra and – God. The look on his face, hungryand intent, like I’m everything he’s ever wanted, makes a shiver go through me.I close my eyes again, not being able to take it, and grind back more harshly,clenching my hands on the sheets. My mouth parts wetly, and I can’t help buthave his name break on my tongue. As if the word summoned him from breathlessair, he’s on me, body pressing against me, mouth biting at mine, saying,Fuck,Jesus Christ, Joaquin.
Very suddenly, the want that hasbeen on a low heat all day flares into a desperate need. I clutch at him,fisting my hands in his clothes and pulling him down closer. His hand is in myhair, yanking my head back, even though his mouth doesn’t leave mine. We’regrinding against each other wildly, and the feel of his thigh against mytrapped cock, of the plug inside me, has me writhing under him, moaning intohis mouth, already desperate to come.
Ezra, however, manages to pullaway, keeping me from chasing his mouth with the hand still fisted in my hair.The eyes that look down at me as I open my own are all pupil, two holes hidinga burning light.
“I want to spank you,” hiskiss-swollen mouth says, and I have to close my eyes for a second at thefeeling that goes through me, knowing this is as far from a punishment as wecan get.
“Yeah, yeah,” I pant, nodding.
“Green, yellow, red,” he remindsme.
“Green, yellow, red,” I repeat.He bites a kiss from me before he starts undressing me – shirt, socks, jeans, underwear,until all my heated skin is on display for him. Even though we’ve done this, orsomething like this, countless times before, his hands still trail over mereverently, tracing the back of his nails against my hairy thighs, scratchinglightly at my nipples, pressing his thumbs against my hip-bones. My heartbeatis loud in my ears as he moves me, the urgency turned to tenderness as he sitsat the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor and drapes me over his lap.Out of all the positions I have ever been in with him, this is the one thatsteals my breath the most. I can’t move, or think, or do anything as his handsrun over me; through my hair and down my back, across my thighs and the dip ofthe back of my knees, the touch incendiary with anticipation and embarrassment.
I bury my head in my crossed armsas he finally reaches my ass. His fingers brush across it, almost petting,before he parts my cheeks. For a few moments he does nothing more, and I knowhe’s just looking at me, looking at the plug that I put in for him, that I’vehad in all day, a constant reminder. Finally, one of his hands moves. I’mtrembling as his finger trails around the base of the plug, tracing the rimbeneath.
