Hunting Sunsets

Thirteen

Movies were supposed to be relaxing things.

Sadly, that was a foreign concept to me, especially today. What had been a chance for Jake and I to hand out together on our own had quickly turned into Smith tagging alone and it wasn't going my way.

My older brother and I were incredibly close. Perhaps I don't talk about him much, but that's only because of the sheer fact that Jake Svensson knew me so well that we never argued and that he knew almost everything about me. For all of the time I spent with Smith, Siya, or Troy, I was still managing to double the measure of time I exercised with my brother. Jake was my other half, but I'd never been more happy he was sitting in a dark movie theater on Smith's left and not mine. Then again, maybe Smith wouldn't be making such risky moves if my brother was right by my side like a guard dog.

For the second time today in less than ten minutes, Smith hand managed to subtly slip his right hand up my left thigh to the point that his fingers where brushing against my core through my skinny jeans. At first I let him keep his possessive hand there for the sole fact that it turned me on. I liked the feeling of Smith claiming what was his. Despite our purely sexual and friendship oriented relationship, there would always be some hint of possession. At the end of the day, I was the one in Smith Kyoh's bed and his name was the one most frequently on my lips. I'd get on my knees for him and open my mouth with the snap of his fingers, and I meant that in the most raunchy and scandalous way possible.

But then his long and daring fingers started to work their way up while applying direct pressure, drawing blood to my throbbing genitals while I struggled to watch the new Avengers movie.

The second time I almost let out a quiet moan, drawing me back to my senses as I bit down on my lip, the faint taste of blood threatening to fill my mouth if I sunk me teeth in any harder. My legs crossed to pushed Smith's hand off to which he obliged but not not before I placed my smaller hand on his thigh.

Smith's dark, hooded eyes darted to his best friend on the left, breathing a little easier when he saw Jake had fallen asleep. He was notorious for never getting through movies, his overwhelming need to sleep taking over every other sense in his body. I wish I could sleep on command like Jake. The dominant setter sent me a warning look as my hand tauntingly slipped higher, running my nails over his light wash ripped jeans.

A smirk formed on my lips when Smith didn't move my hand, instead allowing me to teasingly palm his growing hard on. The raven haired Korean had a beautifully carved v-line to match his chiseled abs and modelesque arms. Smith Kyoh was a walking wet dream and let's just say he did not disappoint between the sheets. But if you really want details, let's just say he's six foot five and the average males dick size is somewhere between nine and eleven percent of their height. So yeah, I was more than satisfied with my above average partner.

My left hand slipped up to the button of his jeans when Smith's lengthy fingers wrapped around my small wrist tightly, keeping me from my devilish intentions. From the back of the theater, I leaned over in my chair, my lips brushing Smith's ear. My pearly teeth nipped his earlobe teasingly as his breathing skipped a beat. "You started this game," I teased him with a smirk on my lips. "Get up, Baby. Let me suck you off." I was a blunt person but I wanted what I wanted.

"You really want to get caught, don't you?" His deep, husky voice whispered in my ear.

"You are the biggest hypocrite I've ever met." I glared through the darkness at the shadowy figure sitting right beside me. I liked the way the light from the screen highlighted his cheekbones and jaw and made his face seem so much more shadowed and defined. Girls fantasized about a man like Smit between their legs. I got the same giddy and awkward feeling looking at Smit on a daily basis that teenagers probably got from stalking their favorite models on Instagram. I had such an intense crush on Smit's body that it probably wasn't healthy. Scrap that; I knew it was not healthy.

I leaned up as much as I could, lightly licking from Smith's earlobe up the side of his ear before whispering back, "Don't you love the way I choke on your cock?" I easily twisted my wrist out of his grip, knowing he let me go willingly. My opposite hand trailed down his chest, feeling his washboard abdomen before I let my other hand return to his boner again. Just because I liked when he bossed me around doesn't mean I don't know how to play his game.  

"Fine," he replied like he was trying not to lose his composure and bend me over his fucking lap right here, right now. "Just know you aren't sleeping at yours tonight, Baby."

"I had a feeling," I replied cockily as Smith got up, walking from the back row and down the stairs of the theater with my shit eating smile following right behind. My eyes had no time to adjust to normal lighting before my wrist was yanked and my feet flew from the deep navy carpeted hallway to the inside of a bright bathroom. The click of a lock echoed off the walls as my back slammed into the sheet rock. A familiar large hand wrapped around my throat as the air left my lungs, not allowing me to take another breath as the warm lips I had become so familiar with connected with mine.

I didn't have the biggest lips, but I felt they were proportional to my face. Smith on the other hand was blessed with deliciously plump lips that made my insides melt. I loved the way he kissed me like he was all the time in the world, yet he didn't want to waste a second of it. He made me feel like the only girl in the world, that was until you remembered he must have had a lot of practice to get as skilled as he is. Is it weird that my jealously only made me hornier?

Our height difference was so great that he had to stand up fully when our lips separated to spare his back, but there was something so intoxicating about looking up at him as he stared down at me with hooded eyes. It was like a physical reminder of my dominance kink and I loved it.

Almost as much as Smith loved eye contact when I sucked him off. A lot of guys thought it was creepy and with some men it was just plain awkward, but with the right partner it was an intimate level that couldn't be replicated. I knew he got off on watching my eyes get watery as I deep throated him so I'd do it as much as he wanted. I didn't know if it was more for him or for me at this point, but there was something about when he slapped me in the face when I was giving him a blow job that made the whole thing much more enjoyable. At this rate, we were both just kinky fucks and we embraced that.

Some people implemented their sexual personas into their everyday life and that I would never understand, but I was more than happy to play the role of Smith's bitch behind closed doors. I don't know why it was so attractive to me, but it was. I couldn't explain it, it was simply part of me.

I was happiest when I had bruises on my knees. And I knew when I sink down on them for what must have been the millionth time and let my mouth do the work, that I was truly happy, as odd as it may sound.

Smith was my escape and I wasn't ready to give that up.