15. Johnny

Iwake up again in a bed that isn't my own—and then I remember I don't have a bed of my own no more. I'm curled up next to Kurt. At least this morning I know his name, unlike yesterday.

Shucks, was it only yesterday? It feels like my life has gone completely cattywampus in the space of barely over a day.

Kurt's body is warm and muscular against mine, and my natural morning reaction is raring to greet the sun. I want to get off, and that hasn't happened for a while. Would he still be open to fooling around?

I kiss the back of his neck and then down his shoulders. He yawns, then grins into my bicep, where it's cradling him. "Morning," he murmurs.

"Morning," I whisper back, rubbing my hard cock against his ass and running a hand down his side toward his boxer briefs. "How are you feeling?"

"Horny."

That makes me smile. "That's good, precious. Me, too. You wanna fool around?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

I heft myself up and push him to his back, then settle between his legs, rubbing my erection against his. His eyes widen at how fast I moved him, but he's easy to haul around, even though he's not tiny. I lean down to kiss him, and he kisses me back.

Lord, this is nice. Even first thing in the morning, with not the best, most minty breath, I like the way he tastes. The way he smells, all clean and musky. The way he kisses me, like he means it.

His hands are roaming down my back, headed to my ass so that he can pull me tighter to him.

When we break apart, I look at him, ingrained habit making me all business for a moment. "So you know, I get tested regularly. I ain't been with nobody since the last time I worked, which was months ago. I'm negative, and I'm also on PrEP."

Kurt scrubs a hand over his face and looks away. "I'm negative, too, as of my last annual exam. Haven't been with anyone since then."

I kiss him again as I lean over him, one palm by his ear and the other hand lightly holding his throat. He seems to be okay with that, but it's not making him go wild, so I move my hand to his collarbone and shoulder, stroking his skin.

That makes him shudder.

Okay, then. He likes it gentle.

I follow the caress with a kiss on the dip above his collarbone while I thrust against his cock. He's rutting into me, too, and it starts as a sweet, slow, seductive dance on the bed.

Exactly the way I prefer it.

"Let's get these off," I mutter, pulling his fancy black boxer briefs down by the waistband. He lifts his hips to help, and then he's naked under me.

"Lord, you're gorgeous," I say, admiring the planes of his body—not a bodybuilder or anything but simply masculine and hot. "Just perfect."

He blushes, and that's adorable. He likes being praised. Nice, because that's my favorite thing to do in bed.

I kiss my way down his torso, stopping to suck on each nipple.

"That … that feels good," he says shakily.

While I know he ain't a virgin, he's acting like he hasn't been touched in a while. Not sure I wanna know his history—even though mine has mainly been recorded for posterity.

I shake aside those thoughts, and when I get to his hard, pretty cock, I stop for a moment to admire it. It's long and lean, but not huge. Not too thick. It's darker than the skin on his upper thighs, and the head is a purply rose color. He's starting to leak precome, and I lean down to lick at the tip—little kitten licks, just for fun.

"Yes, holy fuck, yes. Yes yes yes."

I grin and take him in a little ways, loving the way he smells—earthy in a good way. Like sex.

He bows his back off the mattress when I suck hard.

"Gonna come fast if you keep that up," he warns.

"Do you wanna?" My voice is a low rumble. "Come fast, that is?"

He shakes his head. "I don't want it to be over yet. I'd like to make it last."

"Well, if we want, this doesn't have to be the only time I ever suck your cock," I say, and he lets out a helpless groan as I take him farther down my throat. I stick my hand inside my own underwear to stroke myself a couple times, then move my fingers to his balls, cradling and fondling them while I bob up and down on his dick.

"Stop," he chokes out, and I pull off immediately, holding up my hands.

"Sorry—" I start to say, but he interrupts.

"No, it's not— I want you to. I'm just too close. And I want to return the favor."

I shed my boxers and scoot up higher on the bed, kissing his lips and moving so my cock is close to his hand. "Have at me, precious."

He reaches out and grips me with confidence. As he does, a shudder passes through him.

"You okay?" I ask.

"So much better than okay," he says. "Just … I've fantasized about this a lot of times, but I never thought it would actually happen."

That makes me smile, and now I'm kissing him deeper, thrusting into his fist as he strokes me with sure movements. "Oh yeah. That's how I like it. You're doing that so well. Yes. Oh, fuck."

I reach for his cock, and while it's slightly wet from my saliva, this would be so much better with some lube. Kurt seems to get the same idea, as he's reaching a hand vaguely for the nightstand. I open a drawer and find a bottle of premium lube—nice. I squidge some into my hand, then line up our dicks, taking over the stroking as I kiss him hard.

Kurt's hands are squeezing my ass, scrabbling at the mattress, running through my hair and his. I'm turning him into a wanton, needy thing. Heck yes. I want to do more of this. I want to fuck his cute little ass someday. But right now, mutual hand jobs are working just fine, and I focus on him.

I bite down gently on his shoulder as I stroke him harder, and he gasps, his cock stiffening even more, then starting to pulse as his warm come floods over my hand.

I grin, watching his face go from tense to blissed out.

When I move to jack myself, he stills my hand. "Please," he says.

I nod, and he grips me perfectly on the part of my dick that's the most sensitive—the top part, under the crown. And with his good pressure and rhythm, I'm not going to take long.

From years of doing this on camera, I'm used to holding back my orgasm so the scene can last. So when I don't have to, when I can let myself get off when my body's ready—that's a treat and a half.

Climaxing at all is a treat, since lately I haven't been in the mood. At times, even when it's only been me and my hand, I haven't bothered to finish. Maybe that's tied to what's going on with my brain.

Definitely not feeling a low libido right now, though.

I shudder and moan, my come painting Kurt's belly, and his expression turns even more satisfied. Like he's proud of making me come.

"Good job, baby," I say, kissing him.

He smiles against my mouth and kisses me back.

Then we flop next to each other on our backs, panting.

Well, this ain't so bad. If I have to be facing all this awful shit in my life, fooling around with a cutie like Kurt is a nice … compensation probably ain't the right word. He's more than that.

My husband.

The rush of pleasure into my brain is making me feel better. It probably won't last, but I'll take what I can get. I've had a lot of sex in my life, but with Kurt, it's fresh and new, perhaps because he's so into it. He really is precious.

Eventually, Kurt stirs. "I'll get us some washcloths."

"I can do it," I say, but he's already up.

On his way back to bed, he opens the curtains, and the ocean I hadn't seen in the dark last night is gray and misty across Highway 1 below. I take the cloth he hands me and glance around at the art on the walls as I clean myself up. The photographs are mostly landscapes, but there are some bright political posters and a few paintings. One in particular stands out to me. It's of two men embracing, done in an impressionistic style—loose and rough, but emotional.

"That painting's awful pretty," I say, gesturing at it.

"Thank you," Kurt says quietly, returning to bed.

I turn to look at him. "You did that?"

He nods. "Yeah. I … I don't get to paint much these days, but I like to."

"Too busy with the election?"

"That and with work and whatever else."

"It seems like you need a break."

"Yeah." He sighs. "But I can rest later, I guess. It's fine."

"I dunno," I say slowly. "You're all up in my business, making me work on my mental health. Maybe I need to return the favor."

I can tell he's about to deny that he needs help, but then he shrugs. "Maybe so."

Is there something I can do to take a burden off him?

"I hate to ruin the moment," he says. "But we should probably get dressed."

I sigh. The real world is waiting, outside our little bubble. I'm not really eager to leave that bubble, but I can pull on my britches and deal. And while I still feel crappy about needing help, I'm sort of … honored that he's chosen me to take care of.

Feels nice, honestly.