Chance Meeting


The light spills across him as he lies sprawled on the bed, his body lit and his face shadowed, displayed for my enjoyment. I will have to wake him soon, but not just yet. Not while I still have time to watch Sebastian sleep and try to commit this moment to memory.

The light catches on a couple of gray hairs in the thatch on his chest, testimony of how many years it’s been since I had the opportunity to study him like this. He has always been beautiful and the years haven’t changed that. If anything, Sebastian is more attractive now than he was back then.

I want to climb back into bed and wake him the way I used to. Maybe I will in a few minutes. We have time for that if we share the shower afterward. I can feel my lips curve as I think about washing his back for him — and a few other places.

Pulling my mind away from the fantasies of slick, soapy skin I concentrate on the reality in front of me. I take another sip of tea as I catalog the changes the years have made.

His chest is broader than I remember and he is heavier through the shoulders. His belly is still firm and flat, but not ridged with as much muscle as it used to be. One of his legs is hidden, tangled in the sheets, but the other is displayed nicely for my appreciation. He has always had the best-looking legs. I used to tease him about having prettier legs than most of the girls at school. I was jealous.

My eyes run over the contours of his leg, firm muscles and smooth skin under a layer of soft hair, strength and beauty combined. Even his knee and ankle look good — he would never win a knobby-knee competition. His foot is in perfect proportion and his toes are slightly curled as he sleeps, the nails short and neat.

He shifts slightly and I tense, thinking he is waking up, that I must have disturbed him with my earlier movements or perhaps he can feel the weight of my gaze. I relax as he settles back to sleep and I can continue to watch him. There is something about watching him while he is unaware of my scrutiny that makes it that much more satisfying.

I know he wouldn’t object to me staring at his naked body while he’s awake — he certainly didn’t object last night — but these stolen moments feed the voyeuristic part of me. Somehow it feels like this time is mine, that he is mine in a way he never has been, and never will be, when he is awake.

My tea is finished and I set the mug aside. His movement has shifted the sheet and I have more perfection to study. His cock lies exposed to my gaze, thick and soft, lying curved to the left, the foreskin a tempting nugget against the smooth skin of his groin. His balls lie plump and tasty beneath — the only part of him that isn’t perfect, one hangs slightly lower than the other in his relaxed state, but still perfect in their imperfection.

I can’t resist. A glance at the clock tells me that it isn’t too early to wake him. We both have commitments for the day that we cannot avoid. I edge onto the bed slowly and carefully. I don’t want to wake him yet. I bend forward, breathing in the scent of him — that heady mixture of sweat, semen, and man.

Hovering over him for a moment, my breath stirs his pubic hair as I fight the desire to lick and suck his balls. It would wake him in the way I want, but I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the feel of his cock filling in my mouth. I place the lightest of kisses on the soft skin of his sac before letting my lips brush along the smoother skin of his cock.

I fold my lips over my teeth and nibble on that tender morsel of foreskin that has been pouting at me. I hold it between my covered teeth and let my tongue explore the relaxed pucker — no muscles here to clench at my attentions — but if I tease too much, he will react and I will lose my chance.

My lips part and my tongue slides quickly underneath the limp weight of his cock. I lean forward, drawing him into my mouth. It is easy to take him in until my lips and nose are buried in his soft pubic hair. The scents are stronger here and for a few moments I let him lie on my tongue while I just breathe him in.

But even this much stimulation is waking his body, if not yet disturbing his sleep. I have only a few more moments to enjoy the soft silken flesh warm in my mouth, before it becomes hot and hard. I roll my tongue around him, shifting the weight of him about my mouth, feeling him swell and begin to straighten.

I work my tongue and add a little suction. I can almost feel his blood rushing to my call; there is an echo of a pulse against my lips. It is slow and steady, but I can feel it getting faster, more insistent.

My lips are pushed wider as he thickens. I relax my throat and swallow to accommodate his growing length. There isn’t room for me to work my tongue, all I can do is small movements, rubbing and pushing against the now hard shaft. His pulse is fast and heavy, shaking my cheeks as my jaw stretches to the point of pain.

He moans and shifts on the sheets. That’s my cue to pull back slightly and start to work him. I breathe in as I pull back and breathe out as I move forward, with that long moment between breaths when he fills my throat.

I pull back and clamp my lips just below the broad head of his prick, my tongue rubbing at the underside. His foreskin is stretched taut, but there is still a ridge of it over the head that my tongue can poke at. I can feel the salty fluid welling against the tip of my tongue as I delve past his foreskin to his slit. He jerks and thrashes as I torment him. He’s awake now.

He lifts his head to watch me. Our eyes meet along the length of his body. I can’t smile with my mouth stretched so wide around him, but I try. I can fell the skin around my eyes move and he grins back. I jab my tongue and suck harder. He groans something that might be my name and falls back flat on the bed.

I let my mouth slide down, once more taking him to the hilt despite the sharp ache in my jaw and throat. I swallow around him, pulsing my tongue and holding my breath. It’s too much for me and I pull back again. I need to be able to talk through the day and the ache will remind me of this moment, but any more would turn that ache into a pain. I think he has broadened here as well, or I am sorely out of practice at this.

I settle more comfortably on the bed, pinning one of his legs beneath me to free one hand. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and let my mouth play with the crown. I pull back so that only the tip is still between my lips and push the mix of saliva and pre-come from my mouth to run down his shaft. I tighten my lips and suck him back in, pushing the slick mixture down to run over my fingers.

Shifting position again, I ignore his broken pleas and demands. His hands are clenched in the sheets, his body bowed as he tries to thrust into my mouth. I hold him down, forcing his free leg over my shoulder. I swap hands on his cock, moving my now slick hand down to his balls. They are tight now, pulling up to his body as I drive him toward climax.

I rub the back of my fingers over them, spreading the slick combination of our fluids around, rubbing and rolling them. I let another mouthful flow down and glide my fingers along the taut skin of his perineum. I circle his entrance and it tries to open to drag my finger in. Not yet – I try to smile again around my mouthful – not quite yet.

He is reduced to gasps and moans now, no more words. I work both my hands and my mouth, concentrating on him and what I am doing to him. I will drive him mad. My own body’s needs can be ignored in favor of his.

His balls are drawn up so tightly now that they aren’t moving under my palm. My fingers are still teasing that greedy pucker. I let one finger press in, barely breaching the fluttering muscle. He keens, a high-pitched sound of need. I let my finger slip deeper and the sound tapers off into harsh pants as his body jerks, trying to take my finger deeper and shove his cock farther into my mouth at the same time. I know he can’t do both at once unless I help. I am fairly sure that he knows it, too, but he is too far gone in the pleasure to think that clearly.

My thoughts aren’t exactly crystal clear either. I want him to come nearly as much as he does. I press against his balls and let my finger sink deep, my thumb stroking the side of his slick sac. My head is bobbing now, my lips meeting my fist, which is clenched tight around his shaft, on every down stroke.

As I lift my head, I pull my finger out. I am going to make him scream before he is done. My lips slide back down and my finger shoves in. He is vibrating on the edge now. I pull back and then suck him down as I force two fingers inside him, searching for that nub.

I find it. We used to call it his detonator and it still has the same effect. His body jerks and thrashes, his muscles clamp down on my slick fingers, and he shoots into my mouth. I almost choke, but swallow quickly and repeatedly. His hoarse scream echoes in my ears.

Pressing against that spot inside him I am rewarded with another pulse in my mouth. I swill it around before swallowing it down. He is shaking and twitching occasionally, his breathing harsh in the silent room. I suck him gently until he pushes me away with a trembling hand. He always has been too sensitive to take much contact after he’s come.

Releasing his prick I press one last kiss to its softening length. My jaw aches and it is uncomfortable to swallow. I look up past his heaving chest to his slack jaw. He doesn’t have the strength yet to raise his head to meet my gaze.

I lift myself higher; I want to see his face. I want another memory to keep. My fingers are still buried deep in his ass and I can feel the relaxation of those muscles that were holding me so tight only seconds ago.

My body is making sharp demands of its own. It has been patient long enough. Just a little longer, I promise, just a few moments more while Sebastian recovers enough to know what is happening.

His eyes are almost closed, but I can see a glint beneath the thick lashes. I don’t know if he is looking at me or still lost in his pleasure. His mouth is open as he draws deep, ragged breaths into his lungs. I can see his belly thrumming with his heartbeat. Perfect.

I reach my free hand toward his parted lips and watch a drop fall onto his body, pooling slowly in the dip at the base of his sternum. For a moment I consider wiping my hand on the sheets before touching his face, but only for a moment. I trace his lips with my wet fingers, leaving a glistening trail behind that I just have to taste.

His eyes are open now, watching me. I pause to lick up the drop before it can roll back down to the lake around his groin. Then I’m there, my lips covering his with the taste of his come between us. His kiss is still slightly uncoordinated. He gropes for something on the bedside table and then presses the items into my sticky hand.

I recognize the foil covered shape of a condom and the soft weight of a travel pack of lube. I offer a moment’s thanks for well-equipped conference bathrooms as I break the kiss and put his offerings to use.

Rolling the condom over my needy prick almost makes the lube unnecessary. I clamp down on my body’s reactions and breathe slowly until the urge to come recedes. Control restored fleetingly, I open the pack of lube and apply it to my cock and the fingers still resting in his ass.

It doesn’t take long to spread the lube enough to ease my way. He is still relaxed after his own pleasure, although his prick is showing signs of more active interest. I move again, fighting another battle with my body as my cock lines up and my fingers slide out. I don’t want this to be over before I am fully inside him. My need shouldn’t be so strong. It feels as though I haven’t come for weeks rather than the few hours since we fell asleep.

I nudge the head of my cock through that tight ring that closes around me almost painfully. I force myself to wait, to hold still until he relaxes. The relaxation is sudden and I slide in on one long thrust. So good, so very good. He is hot and tight around me and I can’t think any more. I can’t go slowly and tease him as I wanted to. My need is too great and I have to thrust fast and hard. His voice is urging me on, his body meeting every thrust as I slam into him over and over.

Perfection doesn’t last. It is one bright, blazing moment that seems to last for eternity, before I collapse onto his chest my body twitching and shaking in the aftermath. I can’t see and I can’t breathe. My heartbeat is too loud for me to hear anything else. My cock is still pulsing weakly, gripped in his tight heat.

I can feel his hands running up and down my back, petting and soothing as I come back to myself. My eyes feel wet. Has he driven me to tears once more? He always could take me farther than anyone else. At least this time it was higher rather than lower. I wonder if he will notice?

This time I made him scream with pleasure and he made me cry with ecstasy. He has noticed; his thumb wipes the tears from my eyelashes and I open my eyes to watch him transfer those few salty drops to his mouth, delicately taking them on the tip of his tongue. I blink and he smiles at me. I smile back.

My eyes catch the glow of the bedside clock beyond his shoulder and I try to focus on the numbers. My time with him is almost over. We need to get up, shower, shave, and have breakfast before going our separate ways. My arms tighten around him and my body tenses in rejection. I want to spend the day here in bed with him. I don’t want to get up and lose this glorious body in my arms. I don’t want to shake hands and say goodbye over toast crumbs and coffee in the dining room.

I push thoughts of the distant future from my mind. He’s here now. He’s still mine until we leave this room. Maybe we can order room service. I wouldn’t bother if I was alone, but I’m not alone and it will give us a few more minutes together in private. I’m not sure that is a wise decision, but I can see the relief in his eyes when I suggest it. He doesn’t want to go any more than I want him to.

That makes me relax slightly and lets my mind move beyond the inevitable parting. Maybe we don’t have to part just yet. Maybe we can spend more time together. Maybe, now that I’ve found him again, I don’t have to let him go completely. We can keep in touch. We can be friends again. We don’t have to lose each other like we did before.

Those thoughts are for later. Now we have to prepare for a parting, prepare to face the day and the colleagues we ignored yesterday evening. We order a room service breakfast for two. It will be forty minutes, the bright voice on the phone informs me. I take his hand and lead him into the bathroom.

He adjusts the water temperature of the shower fixture over the bath as I admire the line of his back and hip. We step into the small bath and try to stand under the water together. There isn’t really room, but it’s more fun trying to share than being sensible and taking turns. We each have a sliver of hotel soap and I am tempted to drop mine several times, but I want to be sure that I’ve touched every inch of him before he leaves.

I’m sure I haven’t missed any vital points of his anatomy by the time he turns me to brace against the end wall. I hollow my back, thrusting my ass toward him with an impatient wriggle. He laughs and accepts my offer, checking quickly to make sure I can take him before sliding in. The condom wrapper blocks the drain and we are ankle deep in water by the time we have both recovered.

He fishes the wrapper from the drain and goes to brush his teeth. I give myself a quick rinse and detach the shower-head to wash away the evidence of my pleasure that coats the end wall. The water is still hot, but I turn it off. I hope the other guests are as fortunate. I push the shower curtain aside and step out of the bath. No, the other guests aren’t as fortunate, because Sebastian is not naked in their bathroom.

He grins at me as he pats his face dry, and tilts his head as we hear a muffled knock at the room’s door. He wraps a towel around his waist and goes to answer it. I suppress a pang of jealousy that someone else will see him that way this morning. I have to remember he isn’t mine now. He hasn’t been mine for a lot of years. How could I have been so stupid? I was old enough to know what, or rather who, I wanted, why was I too young to fight for it? For him?

I brush my teeth quickly and dry off before going to investigate our breakfast.



I pour myself coffee and try to ignore how much my hand is shaking. He’ll be done in the bathroom soon and I don’t want him to see that I’m nervous. Maybe he’ll put the shakes down to the sex. I know it isn’t just the fantastic sex making me shake, although that is reason enough. How am I going to concentrate on the speakers talking about sales pitches? How am I going to stay awake?

Will he be in the dining room again today when we have our morning break? I don’t think he was supposed to be there yesterday, but I’m very glad he was. If he wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have seen him, wouldn’t have spoken to him, wouldn’t have spent the night here with him. I tense at the horror of that thought. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel as that, surely?

But fate, in the form of our own pigheadedness, has kept us apart for all these years. More my fault than his, I suppose. I wanted to be normal. I wanted a wife and two-point-four children. I wanted my parents to be pleased with my choices and my life. I didn’t want to hide my love and sneak around pretending to just be friends, and I wasn’t strong enough to come out the way he wanted to.

I wish I had been stronger. I wish I’d believed in our love, in him, enough to take that risk and be open. I knew I loved him, but I didn’t love him enough to risk being labeled gay. Stupid child that I was.

He told me that I’d have labels no matter what, why did it matter that one of them said ‘gay’? I couldn’t explain why it mattered so much to me then, and I still can’t explain it now. It seems so stupid in retrospect. He was right to leave and I was a fool to let him go. Or rather, I was a fool not to follow him. The offer was there. He never issued me an ultimatum, just said he was leaving and he hoped that I would come with him.

What do I do now that I’ve found him again? I don’t want this to be just one night for old times’ sake. I don’t want to walk out of this room not knowing if I’ll ever see him again. Can I bring myself to tell him all this? Before breakfast? In the few minutes we’ll have after breakfast before we have to leave for the conference center? No. We can’t discuss this in just a few minutes.

We need to discuss it, though, or maybe I should say I need to discuss it. I need to apologize and admit what a fool I was. I want to beg him to give me a second chance. But how can I know what he wants or needs now?

We talked over a couple of drinks last night, but not about anything more significant than what we’d been doing since we parted — in the most general terms. And then we discussed me spending the night with him, which is perhaps one of the most significant things that has happened to me in years. Or, at least, I’d like it to be.

When he first suggested it, I thought he was just offering me the use of the sofa bed in his room. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the night in my car, and I can’t really say I had been looking forward to spending the night in the hotel I had booked either — not that that was an option, as they’d double-booked my room and someone else had already claimed it.

Andrew’s hotel was several classes above where I should have been staying — more attractive even if it hadn’t included Andrew. His offer to share was a surprise and I almost turned him down. I didn’t think I could share a room with him and keep my hands off him. But then I noticed the way he was stroking one finger up and down the stem of his wineglass. Maybe noticed isn’t the right word, because I couldn’t take my eyes off that slow, delicate movement. I wanted to feel him stroke my cock like that. I almost could feel him stroking my cock.

I couldn’t answer him while his finger was doing that, not with words, but I could reach out and mirror his movement. The very tips of our fingers met beyond the cool glass stem and I found the courage to look up and ask exactly what he meant by “share” as we rubbed the glass together.

There was heat in his eyes as our fingers continued to caress the wineglass. It was a relief to know that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. It was my choice, he told me, I could sleep unmolested on the sofa bed or I could share his bed. He laughed when I asked if molestation was guaranteed in his bed.

He certainly lived up to that guarantee last night and this morning. I won’t be sitting comfortably today, or walking comfortably either. Neither of us came to the conference center prepared. But I was hopeful when he invited me for a drink and braved the array of machines in the Gents. Andrew did as well, so we had enough supplies for last night.

I thought we had enough between us for an entire week, but there isn’t much left this morning. I drink more of my coffee. The water has stopped running in the bathroom, so he will be out soon. I’m going to ask him if we can meet for a drink tonight. He asked me yesterday, so I want to show him that I’m interested in more than just his bed and body. Not that I’m not interested in his bed or his body.

We don’t have much time left to eat breakfast and get over to the conference center, but I’ll make time to ask that much of him. I should pack my bag. I want to stay here, but I don’t want to presume. If my bag is packed then I can leave if he doesn’t want more than last night. I think I’m prepared for the pain of that. I know he doesn’t owe me anything, but I hope he wants more.

My bag is open on the bed when he steps out of the bathroom. I am looking at him as he sees it and I can see the tightening of his face and his fists as he takes in the implications. I still know him well enough to recognize that he isn’t happy about me packing.

I stop fiddling with my bag and pour him his tea, checking to see if he still takes it the same way. He blinks in surprise that I remember. We sit down to the breakfast, which is surprisingly good for room service that has been sitting waiting for a few minutes.

When we’ve almost finished eating I ask him to join me for a drink tonight. I add some offhand comment about hoping I can find a room before then. I’m not looking at his face as I speak, but I am watching his hands. Andrew’s hands have always been a better guide to his emotions than his face. His hands relax when I ask him to meet me tonight, and then tense again as he makes the offer of sharing his room for the week. Molestation guaranteed, he adds.

I try to suppress my grin as I accept before he can think better of his offer. We’ll have time to talk if we’re together every evening and night until my seminar finishes on Friday. We can’t spend that many hours fucking. I remember last night clearly. Maybe we can spend that many hours fucking, but maybe we can fit in a few minutes talking here and there?

I pull out my mobile and demand his number, just in case I’m running late. He takes my phone and hands me his. It feels good to program my number into his phone. It’s a start, something to build on. Maybe he’s willing to give me a second chance. Maybe I can convince him to let me try to make up for my youthful idiocy.

We dress and my bag is put away. Andrew puts our remaining supplies out of sight and I straighten the bed. I don’t know why I want to try to hide what we’d done. I just know that I don’t want the cleaners sniggering at us, invading our privacy and making this something cheap and tawdry.

Andrew is looking at me strangely, so I try to explain. I’m not sure I’m successful, but he does smile and shrug. It’s time to leave and I don’t want to go. I check my pockets one last time and look around the room.

He grips my shoulder and turns me to face him. His other hand comes up to frame my jaw and he tilts my head for a kiss. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back, pouring all my frustrated hopes into the meeting of our lips. I can feel his body pressed against the length of mine, familiar yet different. We have both matured and our bodies aren’t those of youth, but the changes aren’t that great and it still feels the way I remember to have him in my arms. It feels like coming home.

Andrew breaks the kiss and hugs me close for a moment. It’s time to leave. Time to face the outside world and separate for the day. Only a few hours, I tell myself as he opens the door. We will be back here tonight, together again. I have four more nights to convince him to give me a second chance. Or four more nights to store up memories.

I follow him through the door. I will think positively. He wants me here with him. He wants me in his bed. Is it really that big a step to hope that he’ll want to keep me in his life?

He smiles at me, his expression so happy that it makes my chest hurt. Maybe it isn’t that big a step at all.


Disclaimer: All stories on this site are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of any story found on this site may be reproduced or reposted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

© Copyright Mara Ismine 2010


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: