(slow start, promise it gets hot lol)
The dusk swept thickly around the little old place. It was a boney old house that seemed held together by a prayer. Four years since he’d inherited it, and it was still the old hovel, like something out of a Tennessee Williams melodrama. Dad would be proud.
On good days Theo fancied he was Marlon Brando, but he wasn’t quite as much the untamed force of nature. He was compassionate but corked; a worrier, withheld. And yet, lazy and sprawlingly disorganised. A bad combination. As the hard border of 30 seemed to draw closer – though he had a few years yet still – he felt more adrift and disempowered by the day.
Oh, the music was better than ever. The band was getting tighter, as they always were, but still the labels were lukewarm, and the glamour of thankless touring was peeling off. Friends were using the phrase ‘real job’ with less and less of a teasing manner. He’d found himself discussing the state of Traffic and The Weather without mocking the fact that he was discussing the state of Traffic and The Weather.
These were all troubling signs, reckoned Leo. It was this introspective haze that hung in the air as he sat on the barstool in the kitchenette, drumming his fingers on the marbled counter as he eyed his phone for signs of life. He half expected her to cancel, although this was odd; it would have been far more in character for him than her. He’d forgotten how uncomfortable the stool was, but he felt he had no business relaxing.
He was altogether on edge. But ambiguously so. Confusingly he found it as hard to exactly decipher his own emotional state as it had been to read his ex’s. This was in large part why it’d had been a complete nightmare by the end. She had been somehow both impossibly warm and open and at a moment’s notice lizard blood-cold and controlling. An hour after she would erupt with temper and slam the door so hard that late-teenage Leo genuinely worried about the rickety house. Dad had said that Marina’s Arabic genes were to blame for her ‘fire’, but then he was a well-meaning (but nevertheless sincere) racist. Both of her parents were first generation immigrants, and it had always tickled Leo to think of them poring over an English book-of-names to come up with the mundanity of ‘Marina’. For all her flaws she was anything but.
He was thrown back into the present by the knocking on the door. Three, gently and at large intervals. It sounded almost apprehensive. How embarrassing that his heart was threatening to knock through his ribcage. He turned to the kitchen mirror for a couple of seconds. He couldn’t see the nervousness in his face – the quiet eyes and the curt, bold brown eyebrows above them were unaltered. The nose, a landmark but not overpowering. His lips, contrastingly effeminate with the broad, almost arrogant jaw in a sandpaper coat of musician’s stubble. He perfected his hair. He was ashamed at his vanity and that she had this power over him. Shaking his head in an effort to get out of it, he walked nonchalantly to the front door and opened it.
Marina had had, she felt, one of the worst days that it was possible within the human experience. She may as well have not slept. She’d slapped the alarm off the bedside table for three snooze cycles. New record! Then, no coffee in the flat – who doesn’t have coffee? No time to shave, though she hadn’t for a couple of days. With her thick black hair this was usually a huge no-no. She’d run out of nail polish remover and had to go into the office with the vibrantly inappropriate colours of the Notting Hill Carnival on her nails. No time to pick up a flat white. Her manager Mark had been remarkably pricky even for someone who was a remarkable prick. Thankfully he hadn’t noticed the nails – she stuck her hands in her trouser pockets every time he stormed by her. The usual barrage of texts from William that seemed to defeat the object of a break in their relationship. I miss you, I’m sorry, so sorry.
And it wasn’t even over. Now the trek through the grim September downpour (raining too, how subtle -who was directing the movie of her life?) over an hour outside of central to meet Leo for dinner, and either dredge up the past that had seemed so played out, or obviously and awkwardly avoid doing so. And, she realised with a short frustrated breath, her umbrella was now lost to the 42 bus. Fantastic! On the short walk up to Leo’s shack it started to drizzle again, and she was done. She saw that old house appear round the corner, and internally she prodded her outdated emotions to stay in line. She knocked and after a frustratingly long wait in which she cursed his name, the door opened.
“Hallo,” he said.
“Hiii,” she said.
They smiled politely. There was a stiff pause. Leo was so overdressed by his usual standards that Marina had to suppress a giggle. She took him in – a well-fitted dark red shirt. Well-fitted! Ironed, possibly! Big adam’s apple. A leather belt, and tight, black drainpipe jeans. Hair close-cropped into a well-styled quiff. The eyes, amber and green, those that she had fallen into and then so deliberately managed to climb out of. His body looked harder against his clothes – curve of bicep and tricep, pecs pushing outwards – not the pudgy layabout of old. Maria tried to picture him lifting a barbell. This was tricky. But for once he looked like a man, not a boy.
Leo’s heart rate peaked in a wave of her. Not that she looked her all-time best – darker circles in the cool brown skin under her eyes, her mane of hair wet, and she was wearing what seemed to be an outlandish twist on the pantsuit. Dark grey jacket and trousers, masculine, almost professorial. Only sexual in how unsexy it was, he thought. Still, the force of looking at her alone threatened to buckle him. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They went in for a brief platonic hug and she caught his Yves Saint Laurent – to Leo she smelled like work and weekday sweat semi-disguised with something sweet.
“Yo, are you gonna come in then?”
As they went inside, she impishly took a good look at his – newly-toned – bottom.
The meal – which was home-cooked bolognese -seemed to fly by, although they said absolutely nothing of worth or interest. Across from one another in the kitchen bar he bemoaned the state of the band’s fortunes and she laid into Mark (“I’m sorry, the hair implants are fooling nobody”). She left talk of William out of the conversation – no need to bring up another failing relationship. Leo had been so emotionally naive. It was another forgettable ‘ex’ meet-up and though there was so much easy chat, everything went painlessly unsaid.
“Coffee? The aeropress is honestly the best I’ve had at home. So basically it’s like -“
“No thanks hun. I’m really tired, I’m going to get an uber I think. I need to sleep tonight.”
Leo felt his stomach sink. He was just getting used to looking at her face again – the little curved nose, the powder-pink lips, the headlight-blue eyes with their dark circles. Everything implied under her dull white shirt. He had missed how easily they got on. And they hadn’t even talked about anything. Marina tapped away at her phone. She put her wirey arms through the big arms of the grey jacket, then pulled on sleeve back to look at the dinky watch on her arm before realising – duh! – that the phone would tell her when the uber was near. So tired. Chatting with Leo had perked her up a bit. She felt ‘home’ in a sense that scared her. So, naturally, she had to leave.
“Can I sit down while I wait?”
“Uh…no. Obviously you can, ya shit.”
She followed him through to the orange-painted stillness of the living-room, where there was an old pizza box that Leo sheepishly picked up off the table. He passed her again and she perched herself down on the sofa. His aftershave was almost hypnotic in how it took her back. As he walked back into the kitchen to throw it away she wished she could x-ray his body to see if, and how, it had changed from its late adolescent form. Alone in the room their storied past reeled itself off at her.
Leo came back and paused at the door behind her as though to steel himself. Then he sat down to the left of her. There was a heavy weight in the room.
“TV?” he questioned.
“Nah come on, uber’ll be here in…four minutes.”
“Good point.”
“Anyway…lovely to see you as always, hun. I hope you get that meeting with the…radio plugger? Yeah, well – sorted. And thanks so much for cooking and everything, you know! Such a star.”
Marina wouldn’t keep eye contact with Leo, he noticed. This was a new development. He felt sad that she was a little awkward around him.
“Oh, and keep going to the gym! Don’t go back to being a fattie.” she laughed.
“You noticed.”
“I feel like you’ve grown up a bit. Proud of ya.”
“Pretty sure I don’t feel it. Ha. But thank you Mina.”
She hadn’t heard ‘Mina’ in five years. Without a pause felt a warmth seep into her chest, a reassurance that rippled through her. She looked him in the eye and searched. He was a beautiful man, fiercely gentle with a carved face.
Leo was suddenly very aware of the noise that breathing made. Other than the shitty old clock there seemed to be no other sound in the world but breathing. Specifically two currents of breath – his own, which threatened to betray how fast his heart was beating, and hers, slow, high and at ease. There was other breathing, once. He wanted to be able to change how she was breathing. She used to pant…Leo was suddenly very aware of his own body, and felt his penis began to curl slightly in his boxers. It was so stiflingly quiet.
The gaze seemed a little too long for Mina, but she didn’t want to break it. They were closer than, on a sofa this size, they strictly needed to be. Had to break the gaze to check her phone; two minutes until the uber arrived. She realised that she didn’t want to leave the crumbly old house, but there was nothing to be done. Leo was breathing quickly, which – what? -was he turned on? What had she done but eat dinner? She was in the least inspiring clothes perhaps of all time, with chipped rainbow nails. She was less surprised by this than the fact that she was feeling something too. Too much wine? The cosy glow was spreading. Down, down to rest in her pelvis. The warmth nestled itself between her hips. A feeling of missing. She was hungry. She swallowed quite loudly and her throat felt dry.
It had only been 30 seconds since he’d said his name for her but the room felt like it had been in suspension for an age. Leo’s eyes zoomed into lots of things that he knew where to find: the beauty spot like a tiny sun on her half-moon nose, a quick nervous blink of eyelid, the thick bells of her earlobes. Blue eyes seemed only a tiny bit startled. Too much was covered. He wanted to pry at her and see all of her. As he looked, he slowly but certainly felt his cock rise against the constriction of the tight trouser-leg, desperately trying to straighten itself.
“I like the suit,” said Leo out of nowhere. This didn’t diffuse anything.
Marina snorted. “Moron. It’s ugly. Everything good I own is in the wash. Look at the stitching, the button’s coming off the sleeve.”
Theo put his hand around her tiny wrist and manipulated the button with his thumb.
“Needs fixing.”
“Yep.”
And it was silent again, but the hand didn’t withdraw from Mina’s arm. Nothing could happen though – she was wearing Betty Boop underwear, for christ’s sake. She looked at Leo’s fingers wrapped around her. She knew that hand intimately. She knew all the things it had done to her. At that moment she suddenly very much wanted them to happen again. She looked at him. It felt like her pulse was running through her legs.
Leo had leant into Mina to grab her wrist. He could smell the bitter orange tang of her sweat, and his cock twitched in his boxers. They didn’t work, it was madness. But he wanted her like he had wanted nothing else. He wanted to fuck her until she gave his name up, like a prisoner might. Mina’s small brown fingertips fell on Leo’s pink hand. She felt a shiver like a feather down her spine as she touched it. Tracing up and down. Underneath, the start of a soft dew trickle into her Betty Boop pants.
They were still side by side on the sofa; too close but nowhere near close enough. Their hands tessellated now, fingers wrapping between one another, each unsure what the other meant by this while knowing exactly. She pictured his cock stretching to get out and he pictured the satin of her pussy.
“The uber’s here,” said Mina, and it sounded like she was far away. And then they gave up.
She put her free hand on the back of his head and pulled his face towards hers. Their lips stroked each other’s once and they both let out a gasp of relief into each other’s hungry mouths. Both of his hands seized the back of her neck and rose with her thick hair until they rested around her head, locking her in place. Both of his lips pinned her bottom lip and pulled away once, twice, three times. His tongue snuck into her mouth and ran slowly over the ridges in the top of her mouth, bringing with it the earthy taste of him. Leo licked the remnants of claret out of her mouth until he in turn could taste her – plummy, sweet with a dash of spice or citrus.
Mina found it impossible to focus on one thing. His fingers, hard like tools, played in the denseness of her hair, rubbing her head. She consumed him with her mouth, now going around his lips to kiss up his chin. Her fingers tried to guess at the new and familiar geometry of his body. Her nose was full of his cologne. Her little fig was wet in her pants. She let Leo take her jacket off again. Leo ran his hands again over her body in its white shirt, this time still nearer. His index described the bump of her bra. Then they sank to her trousers. She got up and knelt on the sofa so he could get at her arse, round and sad in its unflattering grey surroundings. His fingers wrapped around her thighs and flashed for a second past her already famished pussy. Then he pulled back her hair again.
She felt the warm, dark predator puff of his breath in her ear before there was no escape, and his teeth fixed onto her earlobe and tore away gently like a well-trained police dog. Now he was sucking on them and it felt like ecstasy. She wanted him to suck her nipples too, and she knew that before long he would.
She started unbuttoning his shirt slowly and deliberately, almost forgetting what she was doing as his lips pulled at the folds of her ears, and she could hear him all over her body. The dark brambles of his chest hair covered the tiny pink mounds of his nipples – and then softly ran down over his sharpened abdomen, to the border of the belt.
He ripped the shirt off and pulled her back, his other arm like a pillar against the sofa. He sighed as a cold hand stroked his bare skin for the first time. He didn’t think he’d ever unbuttoned a shirt on her before, but he mirrored as she’d just done as he kissed her, flicking one button and then the next. Her hand-sized breasts sat expectantly in a dark blue bra. They kissed as he hung over her, his lips now pulling hers upwards and letting them fall. Then he ran the very tip of his tongue down her neck and wirey collarbone, stopping only to pick up patches of her brown skin in his mouth by way of sample. Sullen as it was in her bra, to be charitable he ran two fingers ever so lightly around the unseen mound of her nipple.
Mina reached up and had fun with the fat, springy cheeks of the bottom she’d spied earlier, squeezing and pulling in all directions. His finger’s circles led sparks around her breast, and all the while her old forgotten pussy was jealous under the ugly office trousers. Her hands on his arse sent almost unbearable arcs of pleasure round to his cock. In one – for once- he deftly unclasped her bra and liberated her pale breasts, which looked at him aghast. He slowed down before he touched them and Mina bit hard into her lip. The white skin was silk under his fingers, which felt up and down the tough springing buds of her nipples.
His fingers were gentle heaven on her tits, rubbing and consoling them, stroking and pulling, until she looked down and the tiny brown nubs looked tough – erected and joyous. She closed her eyes and knotted her eyebrows in bliss.
When she regained all of her senses she fumbled for his belt buckle and pulled it apart, hearing the rustle of authority in the leather as she did so. She popped the top button of his trousers, then felt the outline of his animal cock pressing against the cage-metal of the zipper, pinched the zip and pulled it down agonisingly slowly, until the gap was big enough that she could fit her small hand in to feel him better. She held his balls, caressing the masculine orbs as his voice cracked, and she looked at the cloth-covered cable of his penis that pointed across his thigh in his boxers. Leo leant down and engulfed a nipple in the warm cave of his mouth, touching it with his teeth in feather-light chews. By the time he stopped it was rock hard, and there was still the same to go again. Her pussy, all alone, ached so much that she could feel it softly crying in her pants. She wanted to be full of him. Then she felt like a manager as he dutifully unzipped her grey work trousers, yanking the dull cloth past her rump against the sofa. This exposed her legs, almost rough with stubble, and she felt a chill.
“Betty Boop?” he said, insightfully.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she said.
The uber driver gave up and went home.
They walked with nothing but underwear on through the house, hand in hand and he behind her, taking large portions of the back of her shoulder as they went.
Upstairs they laid down on the bed next to one another and each wrapped the other in duvet. She sucked and licked a finger first, then he took her lips in his again. His hand was more forceful against her breasts now, insistent, yanking with greed. Almost with anger, he pulled her legs up and apart by the knees. His hands scanned all of her helpless legs – rough and cold and unloved as they had been – then even her feet, before finally inching towards the destination as her breathing got quicker and quicker in his ear. She tried desperately with her hand to move his to her pussy, and although he skimmed the puddle in which Betty Boop lay for an instant, he wouldn’t, not for an unbearable time. Instead he felt the downy hair and pinpricks of stubble around her underwear for what seemed an immense length of time. Until finally, finally he snapped, picked up her legs and tore off the miserable underwear. His hand hovered in the air; and then it was there. Bliss, bliss, bliss. She let out a instinctive grunt in his ear like livestock. He shivered as he felt the slick ridges and creases and folds and hoods of her, pussy completely drowned in her own treacle. He kissed her with passion as his finger grazed her clit. Her trappings stripped from her, in his ear she deeply mooed with satisfaction.
Under the covers she rolled over him so their nipples were introduced and pressed into one another. She moved over him down the bed, pulling the cover behind her. Then she pulled down his pants and his cock peeked over, then landed with a ripe thud of meat against him. It was curved a little to the side, pointing at her. A tiny line of wet excitement trailed down from the nib of his penis. She took hold with her hand as she looked into his eyes and she could feel the beat of his heart as it pulsed in her fingers. He groaned deeply as ever so slowly she pulled the skin down like tarpaulin; until the lush red fruit head of his cock was open in the air. Hand moving up and down, she pulled her thick hair back then lowered her head and fit the great mass of the head into the small pocket of her mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head as she sank and rose, sank and rose, her mouth stuffed with him. He held her head and stroked her ears as she went.
“Stop,” he said. He could feel the orgasm reach up from his buttocks – and it was too soon.
They sat up and kissed each other as gently as virgin spirits.
He could smell her unwashed pussy – oaky and spiced. She smelt his musk among the cologne.
He wanted to taste her and drink her and make her cum, but that all could wait.
She knew why he’d stopped and she wanted it.
She lay down next to him and raised her legs and feet in the air in prayer to him. He sank down and glanced at her pussy, shiny with a pearl coating, as he guided his cock up to it. They looked into one another’s eyes again as they fell into one another, and Leo used the strength in his arse to plunge deep within her until their pelvises hit one another. He felt the ribs of her surround him completely, and she felt the curve of him cork her entirely.
*END OF PART 1*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/73j7ch/theos_ex_marina