You’re lying back on his bed, panties pushed down and tshirt pushed up, sweaty and breathing hard. It’s the heaviest day of your period, charnelhouse-heavy, so when he pulled you onto the bed and rolled between your legs, kissing you thoroughly, you’d scrabbled for your bag on the floor and reached to pull out your little vibrator. He’d murmured appreciatively against your skin and you’d slipped it into your panties, tracing it around and over your clit, while he pushed your tshirt up over your tits and sucked soft and wet on your nipples, his big hands under your ass. You’d come, two times almost together and then again, and now you’re warm and drowsy and arching up softly into his chest.

‘Sam,’ you say, and drag your fingers messily over his face. He turns his head to the side and catches two of them in his mouth. ‘I want you to come too. Can you – I wanna watch you get yourself off.’ He gets up on his elbows a little and pulls a face, something between a smile and a smirk.

‘Really? I don’t need – I mean, hey, I liked this. It wasn’t. I like just getting you off.’

‘I know.’ You wriggle a little against him. ‘But really, I – I want you to. I think about it a lot. When I’m. You know.’

His eyebrows go up a little, and this time it’s a straight-out grin. He sits up, kneeling over one of your legs, and leans a little back, one arm braced behind him against the mattress. With the other hand he pushes his shorts down over his thighs, past his half-hard dick and the soft weight of his balls. He looks right at you and drags his tongue over his lower lip.

‘Wait,’ you say, and sit up, curl over and hold onto one of his knees so you can reach his dick. You take it in one hand and wet the length of it with your mouth, tonguing and licking, getting it as wet as you can. Maximum slobber. Then you lean back.

‘There,’ you say, and your cheeks are flushed, watching. Waiting.

He starts off slow: light, easy drags while his dick is still hardening. He shifts on the arm holding his weight, settles his ass more firmly onto his heels. The muscles in his shoulder roll and flex and he tips his head a little forward, enough that his hair falls almost across his cheekbones. He’s focused, hand jerking steadily now in long stripping motions, hips flexing forwards into his fist, a subtle counterpoint of moving muscle. You forget to breathe for a minute, only realise it when you stutter back into shaky breath, watching the flush creeping up his chest and the hard curve of his dick, slick now and squelching a bit in his fist, and you think of it inside you.

‘Fuck,’ you say, sort of under your breath, and he glances up, lips pink and hanging a little open.

‘Baby,’ he says, and you sit up, fast, against his side and kiss him hard on the mouth. His tongue is flickering wet against the back of his teeth.

‘Wanna see you come,’ you say against his face, hands tangled in his sweat-damp hair, fingertips pressed hard against the weight of his skull, ‘yeah, yeah,’ and he makes a sort of whimpering strung-out noise and comes, chest heaving, face turned into your neck.

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