Appeal Denied

2014-NYC-03: Pro Bono

My one bedroom is tiny. Barely enough room to turn around, so when I led him there from the kitchen, and Harry pressed himself against me, there was no escape (although we could debate whether I actually wanted to escape). I felt kind of like when you buy a new fish at the store, and he keeps swimming around the small bag, unsure what happened to his space and friends. To clarify, I was the fish.

Last time we'd done this, we were both pretty wasted. On this day we were sober. Did we know what we were doing? This was unmistakably a booty call. But my booty had answered, and I reached out to his shirt, my hands shaking as I unfastened the remaining buttons before peeling aside the material to view his nipples. My glazed eyes rushed up his chest to his face after I did a little counting.

"Four nipples? What kind of sideshow freak are you, Butterfly Boy?"

He smirked, "I'm too sensuous for the typical two nips, Brains."

I couldn't help it at that point. He looked so sincere. So seductive. Naturally I burst into laughter. My hands were resting on the naked skin of his hips, and I buried my face in his chest as the giggles rolled through my body, my shoulders shaking.

"You're laughing at me?" Harry growled.

I couldn't reply because I was chuckling so hard, but my breath caught when he captured my face in his hands, stepping into me so that I had nowhere to go except sit on the bed. Which placed my face much closer to a different body part than any of his nipples.

Tilting my chin up, he leaned forward to kiss me again. His tongue danced across my closed lips like the Sugar Plum Fairy: gracefully, delicately, and with an entreaty. The instant I opened, he became the Mouse King: invasive, sweeping, and in charge. I had nowhere to retreat and found that I didn't want to. His taste was pleasantly unavoidable.

Greedily I gulped in his flavor, knowing that a meal this delectable doesn't come along very often, and is much too rich for a steady diet. But I was going to savor the dining experience. Nibbling at his lips, I broke our kiss to allow my mouth to wander his jaw, careful not to cut myself on the sharp edges there. My tongue ruled, desiring that his salty essence hit my taste buds first. His hands rubbed at my shoulders and upper arms, encouraging my gluttony.

Have you ever eaten chocolate-covered bacon? The crispness and saltiness of the bacon enrobed in the sweetness of the processed and sugared cacao bean? Your mouth doesn't know where to focus its attention, and you wind up craving simultaneously to suck the chocolate off and to bite into the whole thing to combine the flavors. That's what I was thinking about when my teeth managed to close around the skin on his collarbone. He hissed in a breath at the contact, and I wondered if I'd hurt him, but then he wound his fingers in my short hair, holding me to him longer. I soothed the spot with my tongue and some kisses when my teeth finally released.

"You should come up for air," he quipped, and I groaned.

"Enjoying my breakfast a bit too much for that." The words, smile attached, slipped from my lips before I explored his tattoos. I could feel the hardness of his dick, but I wasn't ready to relinquish my travel plans just yet. Skipping kisses across his pectoral muscles, I nudged aside the fabric at his shoulder with my nose, sniffing deeply of his armpit. Believe me, before that moment I had never considered the idea of smelling someone's stinky, unwashed underarm as sexy, but I wanted to nuzzle there and build a nest. He smelled sweaty and sour, yet also like sunshine and summer. In the middle of December, I found the scent of July. Quickly I was addicted.

"That's enough of that," he insisted, lifting me by my armpits and tossing me further up the bed. Landing with my legs splayed and my arms propping me up, I surveyed him as he stood at the end of the bed. Damn. He was bigger than life, his cheekbones perfectly sculpted in a way that should have put him in a museum. The top of his hair was mashed down from the hat he'd worn all night, and he ran his fingers through the length as he stood gazing at me, touching the bottom right when he was done. Jealousy rose in me as every strand fell perfectly. How did he do that?