Yardbird’s “for your love” is blaring out of the rental car’s speakers as we roll into the hotel parking lot in silence. The chirpy melody feels like it’s clashing with the slowly creeping tension in the vehicle, so I swing into a spot in the shade and turn off the engine before the song reaches its climax. You raise an eyebrow at me and open your mouth to speak but think better of it and get out instead, stretching cramped legs after the nonstop three-hour-long drive. I try and fail to ignore the flash of downy hair on your midriff when you stretch out, and wonder to myself if kids these days still call it a treasure trail. I just need to get to my room, song or no. Normally I’d leave the car in park and let the song finish; a quirk of mine you’d come to terms with during our work assignments. Short, inter-city jaunts to shake hands with the neediest clients and assure them we’re on top of stuff and junk, like professional adults do all the time. Smooth things over with people in suits who are Very Upset by saying all the Right Things and then collapse in our hotel beds after fucking each other’s brains out. Sleep off the sex and road fatigue then wake early for shitty hotel bacon and coffee while planning the next few days of intensive workshops to set them on the right path again. Celebrate our success with even more sex and then check out to head home. It was formulaic by this point.
Only this time, the formula has changed.
When we check in, I don’t even wait for you to finish your paperwork before I excuse myself and shuffle off towards the elevator. I can tell you’re nonplussed even as you accept my offered apologies and claims of being “so totally exhausted” with a nod and a resigned frown.
The elevator doors shut and I step backwards. Leaning against the faux-wood paneled wall, I shove my balled-up fists into my eye sockets, finally letting out a shuddering breath. Fuck. Get it together. It’s at this point that the doors open again because I’ve forgotten to choose a floor, and you pause for a moment before stepping in. “You… ok?”
“It was just a long day.” I fib, and you sigh, leaning past me to press floors 3 and 5. You took notice of my room number. I shake my head, trying to physically dislodge the thought. Get out. You’re not welcome. Pointless.
You let out a long breath through your nose. “It’s not easy for me either-“ we stop and face the doors, which are opening to reveal an employee with a cleaning cart. They back away from the elevator, even though we wave them in.
“I hate that. Like I’m too good to stand in the same space as the person who refills my soap?” I huff and you laugh as the doors slide closed again. I’m desperate for something else to be mad at besides myself, and classism is an easy target. Anything to take the focus off my burning red cheeks. The thought of you seeing past my carefully maintained facade makes my stomach roil. We had both agreed to keep things non-committal, but then you messaged me late one night asking me to tell you I loved you, and I realized that I did. But the timing wasn’t right, and for reasons that seemed important at the time, everything fell apart in slow motion as we tried to navigate things and keep it professional at work. Haha, we would have been so great together but we’re better off being friends, right? Right. It has been months and despite things slowly feeling more normal, we’ve been warily eyeing the calendar as our next work trip loomed. The tension is thick in the elevator as I watch us approach your floor. I’m reminded of a particular trip when you didn’t even use your room; opting instead to follow me directly to my suite with a smirk.
The doors open and I wait for you to step off; when you hesitate, I find myself pinned to the spot. I stare straight ahead, heart pounding in my chest. Vaguely aware that you’ve turned to look at me, I stand and watch the doors close. Okay. You seem to have decided you’re joining me despite our previous conversations. But we’re only two floors away from the next stop and so I barely have time to collect my thoughts before the doors slide open and I stride forward, shooting you a look over my shoulder almost as an afterthought as I march towards room 523. My stomach does a flip when your jaw drops in reaction. Smiling to myself, I shuffle my bags to check the keycard folio for my room number. I stop dead in my tracks – 323 is scrawled prominently inside. My stomach does another flip, this time much more unpleasantly, when I realize that instead of following me to my floor, I am a fucking idiot who has in fact followed you to yours.
I look up and do my best impression of someone who doesn’t want the floor to swallow them. “Aha, whoops! Uh, I’m on – wrong floor” is as close as I get. It’s not very convincing. “Goodnight!” I suddenly feel like I’m talking really loud. I hold the card up feebly between us, as proof. “See you at breakfast!” Am I talking really loud right now? I swivel away, cringing every step back to the elevators. I jam my finger on the down button and resist the urge to press it repeatedly. You make a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh before mercifully wishing me a good night and disappearing around the corner in search of your room. Not my room.
I’m kind of proud that tears don’t well in my eyes until I’m safely in my own room. Idiot. I *was* being an idiot, a silly hopeful idiot. I hate how excited I got when I thought you were following me. Because those days are over, and I’m alone in my hotel room angrily staring at the ugly patterned carpet.
I want to wash this entire day off, I decide, and stomp into the bathroom determined to use up all the fancy mini toiletry bottles I can get my hands on. I spend my time in the eucalyptus-scented steam, anger soon giving way to a familiar mix of shame and longing. before I know it, I’ve been in the shower for 30 minutes and my evening has started turning around. It isn’t until I step out of the bathroom and turn off the fan that I hear the knocking on the suite door. I balance on tiptoes, my fingers clenching involuntarily at the towel wrapped around my chest when I spot you through the peephole. Why didn’t you just text me? I wonder, before realizing I made several spectacles of myself before darting off to my room, clearly upset, and then immediately neglected my phone for the better part of an hour. I glance back at the desk and my fears are confirmed when I can see across the room that my cells’ screen is aglow with text and call notifications. Fuck.
I swing the door open to assure you I’m fine, and your worried look instantly turns slack the moment you take in what I’m wearing. Impulsively, I grab your arm and pull you into the room. I’d rather deal with the fallout from this act than stand in the hallway half-clothed and risk another of our teammates seeing us like this. “I’m good, I was in the shower, I didn’t hear my phone-“ I stop when I see the look on your face. *That* look. I suddenly feel very conscious of my surroundings, but I don’t budge. If anyone crosses the distance between us tonight, it has to be you. The long drive had felt like nothing was off; it wasn’t until we approached the hotel that I started overthinking things. Letting out a long sigh, I square my shoulders and look up at you, daring you to take a step towards me.
We stand in the hotel room vestibule, inches apart but not touching. “We were doing so good. What happened?” The question shocks me. I was not expecting this level of directness from you of all people. We had settled into a comfortable dance of pretending like nothing ever happened, and that was what you wanted, wasn’t it? “You do this thing where you … put on a smile but it’s not real.” I nod, having been called out for the crystallized grimace that betrays my struggle maintaining composure on occasion. It was on a performance appraisal once, I recall with a pang of annoyance. “You have never, ever looked at me that way before.” Your voice drops an octave, and I feel my heart sink along with it.
“I was embarrassed I accidentally followed you to your floor.” Liar.
You raise an eyebrow and I know you know I’m being coy. “No, before that. In the car and lobby.”
I sigh and fidget with the towel hem. “Being here and not being with you feels – sad, and I’m trying not to be weird about it but I overthink and just end up being super awkward which is ironic because that’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid” I ramble half-heartedly, my face burning with shame. The words I did not want to speak come tumbling out of me as soon as you barely prod. Guess I needed to get this off of my chest.
“You feel awkward around me?” Your face contorts in a sad grimace.
I sigh again and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration, more at myself than anything. “No! Not because of you! I feel awkward because of me, I’m the one who can’t get you out of my head and end up acting like a horny little goblin-” I start to ramble again about my inability to respect boundaries, but you don’t interject and save me from myself until I’ve well and truly run out of steam and stand there waiting for a reply with my heart pounding in my ears.
Unfortunately I end up standing there a few beats longer than normal. I finally notice your eyes are glued to my chest where I’m still clutching my towel, and so I have to concede ground and loosen my grip a little bit, letting the cloth slip lower. I need you to decide what it is that you want. Fine. I bite my lip and pull the towel down another fraction of an inch. This snaps you out of it and before I know it you have crossed the space between us on that hideous carpet and your hand is tangled in my hair, pulling my head back so you can kiss and bite my neck. You whip away the towel with your other hand, running it down my side before cupping my ass and drawing me towards you. My knees almost buckle when your tongue finds that spot just below my ear. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed your hands on me. Don’t ever stop doing this again. I pull away and look at you. “I need you tonight.”
That familiar smirk creeps across your face. “Tonight?”
I swallow. “…most other nights too.” Why the fuck not, I think, as long as we’re being honest with each other.
You sigh and rest your forehead on mine. “Ditto doesn’t quite cover it.” My heart skips a beat when you use our inside joke – our way of saying we agree with the other person vehemently. We stand for a moment. The short hallway is lit by the bathroom, the darkened room beyond a barrier we are unsure we should cross into. We can stop here. If that’s what you want.
“One last time? To get it out of our systems?” I venture. It is a lie.
“Yeah. One last time.” You lie back, but I don’t yet know it is an untruth. Still, I’m willing to take what I can get if that means you’ll fuck me tonight. Our lips finally meet and I melt into you as we shuffle into the darkness, groping at each other. The last time we kissed had been a chaste, quick peck and I was always irked that I hadn’t been able to give you a proper goodbye. You’re an incredible kisser, and I quickly feel myself getting excited again. Your hand is now on my inner thigh, tracing gently upwards as we stand pressed together in the darkness at the foot of the crisply made hotel bed. Nearly letting out a gasp when your hand reaches its destination, you realize how wet I am. I sheepishly confess that I had been playing with myself in the shower when I realized how badly I still wanted to sleep with you. I’m rewarded when you groan and toss me on the bed; trailing a line of kisses from my neck down to where your fingers still tease.
I missed this, so so so much. My breath quickens and my heart is racing with the anticipation of you going down on me. I want to grab your face and shove it between my legs but instead I settle for clenching fistfuls of duvet as you settle on your knees at the foot of the bed. You take your time, nibbling and kissing along my inner thighs until I’m squirming and shivering. My back arches when your tongue finally makes contact with a warm, teasing stroke. I can’t even express how much I’ve missed this. Your mouth moves over me, licking and kissing as I relax, murmuring your name and running a hand through your hair. You nibble at a particularly sensitive spot and I gasp, fingers tightening into a fist. The deep chuckle you let loose in response sends vibrations rumbling through me and I realize how badly I am aching for you to be inside of me again.
Like a goddamn mind reader, I feel one and then two of your thick fingers enter me. You groan at the slickness you encounter, sending more of those delicious rumbles right through me. More. More, more, more of you. I can’t believe how badly I have wanted this for so long, and now you’re here with your face and hands buried between my legs as you pleasure me. My back arches, and I hiss that you are going to make me cum. Wonderful person that you are, you maintain speed and pressure even as I begin to clench around your fingers. My god, how I missed this. Your tongue coaxes a toe curling, thigh shaking, knuckle biting orgasm out of me and I’m left like a pile of jelly on the bed afterwards.
As soon as I’m able to form words, I weakly motion for you to join me and you comply, stretching out beside me with our legs dangling off the end of the mattress. I briefly wonder if this is where the evening ends before I notice the bulge straining at your jeans. “I just need a minute” you confess, “or this is going to be over sooner than I want.” My eyes widen and I let out a sigh of relief.
“So, this would be a really great time to remind you that tomorrow is going to be spent fixing those inventory discrepancies while getting yelled at?” I bat my eyelashes at you and you grimace.
“I said I needed a minute, not that I wanted you to kill my entire boner” you pull one of the pillows over your face and sigh dramatically in mock despair.
“Want me to put you out of your misery?” I giggle and press the pillow down gently for a split second. Ah yes, nothing like joking about homicide to keep a man interested. Luckily the dark humor lands and you chuckle back beneath the pillow.
“Not yet. I still have so much to live for….” you drawl sarcastically with your muffled pillow voice. I snatch it away to reveal a shit-eating grin.
“Such as?” I prod, and you snatch my wrist.
“This.” is all the answer I get before you pull me forward and our lips meet again.
It isn’t long before I’m tugging your shirt up, desperate to feel your skin on mine. Pants are next, and I relish the feeling of layers disappearing as you wind up on top of me. Soon the only thing between us are those blue striped boxer briefs I recall being once used to bind my wrists during a separate romp. How auspicious. I wrap my legs around your hips and savour the feeling of your hardness grinding into me through the thin cotton. You pant into my ear and I shudder. “Can you feel how soaking wet you make me?” I whisper and you press into me again, harder this time.
The grinding becomes rhythmic, and we lay there in the darkness as the bed creaks beneath us in time to our gasps and sighs. This is maddening, I want you inside of me. “Do you have-“ you start, before you are interrupted by my vehement nodding and my weight shifts beneath you when I reach for the small bag on the nightstand. Silly, hopeful idiot but a *prepared* one at that. Everything a girl could need at hand; mints, sewing kit, Advil, antacids and – there – a handful of condoms because you Just Never Know.
With confidence I do not feel on the inside, as I rip open the foil packet I announce that I want to ride you and then have you finish in my mouth. It works, and I have never seen someone remove their underpants that quickly in my life. Your cock is nearly dripping with precum as I roll the condom down over its thick length. I bite my lip, wishing I had thought to taste it before putting the condom on you. But now your hands are on my face, pulling me into a kiss and on top of you so I can make good on my stated intentions. With a firm grasp, I slowly drag the tip of your erection up and down my wet lips. I tease you for too long, it seems, because the moment I position you inside my entrance, your hands are on my hips shoving me down onto your cock as far as it will go. I gasp at the sudden fullness and you freeze, aware of the rough movement. “More.” I whisper and rise up again slowly, placing your hands back on my hips. “Make me ride you hard.” I swallow, the words so loud in the darkened room.
“Holy fuck, I missed you.” Your voice is thick with lust or emotion, I can’t tell, but your hands are on my hips driving me down onto your waiting cock and that forces all other thoughts away. You are the only person that has ever been able to make me finish in this position, self-consciousness usually getting in my way. The awkwardness that had been steadily building between us is gone, and I feel free as I bounce on your lap and cup my breasts. I could almost throw my head back and laugh, I think giddily before I realize that this is actually a slowly building orgasm. I know that I’m lucky – one of those types who can get off multiple times once the first peak is reached. Getting there the first time is usually my issue, but it hasn’t been a problem with us. I told you what I liked, you listened, and I came again and again. It was like some mind-blowing formula I had been trying to discover my entire adult life, and yet, I had to admit, your simple act of asking how to touch me and me having the confidence to admit it paid off in spades. Communication, who knew?
You slam into me again and I gasp, snaking a hand down to rub my clit, now greedily focusing on my building pleasure. “Come for me.” You demand, and a few strokes later I’m falling forward as my second orgasm ripples through me. Don’t stop, don’t stop. My hips roll down as I climax, desperate to take as much of you in as I can. “I’m really close” you pant, and with a pang of regret I grind you deep inside of me one last time before rolling off of you and gingerly tugging the condom off.
I’m only vaguely aware of your chest heaving as my focus centres on that glorious prick of yours. I can’t wait to devour you and feel you spill down my throat. It’s my turn at the end of the bed, with you splayed out in front of me. I love giving head to you this way, legs spread so that I can easily suck and fondle your balls or wiggle my ass invitingly while I go down. I finally get to taste that precum, and I lap it up gently from your throbbing tip. Your breathing picks up and I smile, gently rubbing you against my bottom lip. “What do you want?” I whisper, punctuating the sentence by kissing the underside of your cock, which twitches in response.
“You. I want you. All the time.” My heart stumbles, not the direction I was heading in but we can circle back to that later.
“And what do you want me to do right now?” I press on, breath and lips tickling you.
“Suck my cock” has barely passed your lips before said cock passes mine, and I note with satisfaction that your head rolls back in pleasure at the movement. I set to work, grasping firmly at the base and stroking upwards to meet my mouth as I twist my head downwards while sucking. I truly do love giving you head, if only for the noises you make when I attempt manoeuvres like the above. Something like a string of consonants tumbles out of you but I get the picture and am ready when the first thick ropes of cum flood my mouth. It’s not entirely unpleasant-tasting but what makes it hot is the fact that I drew it from you; making you cum and pleasing you is an incredibly empowering feeling. I swallow greedily, licking and suckling gently as your orgasm ebbs. I spend what some might describe as a generous amount of time slowly dragging my tongue over your balls and up the base of your penis, delighting in the little twitchy aftershocks I can coax from you.
Eventually enough is enough and you draw me up again until I’m nestled against you as the little spoon. I feel lips on the crook of my neck once, twice, before your arms tighten around me firmly. I press back into the embrace, not sure of what any of this means or will lead to. If this truly is the last time, so be it, I think as I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to just enjoy the moment. But it isn’t until I hear you breathe “I’m not going anywhere” before I’m able to relax and drift off to sleep.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/iwlvgk/just_another_last_time_mf_long