…or, The Hard Goodbye
Iason liked to look in my eyes when we fucked.
Or maybe what he liked was me looking in his eyes. Maybe he could have just gazed off into the distance if he could be sure I was watching him while he did it.
Okay. He didn’t deserve that. I was really mad at myself for giving in. It was just easier and more fun to be mad at him. Also a little hotter. I couldn’t see myself doing the hate-sex thing, but a little anger added to the fire.
Whatever reason he wanted to be facing me, it kept me limber. Doggy-style was not the only way for two guys to get it on. It was maybe the most straightforward one. It wasn’t Iason’s favorite. At that moment, my upper back was on the floor and Iason was kneeling in front of me, my legs up over his shoulders as he thrusted away. When he did it from behind me, he wanted to be laying down, really on top of me, covering my body with his. Either that or standing up, again with his chest against my back.
I was fine with that.
It was a bit rougher on me. A little tighter. I couldn’t flex with him as much. I couldn’t adjust as much to meet his angle of approach. The skin contact was nice, though. I could imagine how it felt to him. Elves ran cool even when they got hot. Iason wasn’t exactly ramming an icicle up my ass, but what must it be like for him to thrust himself inside me? To feel the heat of me blazing all around?
Probably he told himself that it was him that made me so hot, not the human heart pumping my blood. It was probably the perfect extra ego stroke to him.
I was doing it again.
Fuck.
I stopped moving with Iason. It threw him off for about a second, then he tried slamming me harder to make up for it.
“Wait, stop,” I said, pushing on the floor with my arms and sliding back off of him with a pop. “This isn’t working.”
“Perhap my Pax is not as good as I thought,” Iason said. “I fear you will have to define ‘working’ for me.”
“I’m not into it,” I said. I sat up. My cock was deflating pretty quickly. Now that there wasn’t any pressure from inside, it was more obvious to me just how much I hadn’t been into it. “Or I keep drifting out of it. Whatever. I’m not feeling it tonight, Iason.”
“Why? What is wrong?” he asked.
“It’s mostly that I didn’t think it was a good idea in the first place,” I said. “I let myself be pressured, and I’m resenting it. I should have said no. I should have stopped you before you got going.”
“Oh, well, I forgive you,” Iason said. He leaned forward, hands reaching for my hips.
“What, did you not hear me?” I said, scooting back. “I said no, Iason.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I only heard you say you weren’t into it. Do you not want to continue?”
“What?”
“It’s a simple question, Iamie,” he said. “Ideally, sex should be pleasurable for all involved. Certainly my goal is to elevate you to untold levels of pleasure each and every time we come together, but we do not live in an ideal world and I am humble enough to recognize that I will not succeed at matching every goal I set for myself. Ideals aside, our congress realistically only needs to be pleasurable for me in order for it to happen.”
“Well, call me a dreamer, then, because I’m not ready to give up on the ideal,” I said.
Iason sighed.
“Very well, then,” he said. He started to reach around to put his hand behind my head. I stood up and stepped back. “What is the matter?”
“Cockhound or not, there’s a certain minimum level of turned-on you have to be before letting the thing a guys pees out of anywhere near your mouth, even if it hasn’t been anywhere worse than his underwear for a while,” I said. “If you wanted a quick blowjob to finish things off, you might have saved your theory about idealism and reality until after.”
“This isn’t about what I want,” Iason said. “It is at best an unsatisfying compromise.”
“Sex is an either/or proposition. You want sex, I don’t,” I said. “So if you want a compromise, you can go fuck yourself. Or, you know, someone else. Since you insist on the right to do that anyway, you might as well go exercise it.”
“Is that what this is about?” Iason asked.
“No, it’s not,” I said. “I told you what it’s about. I’ve got tonight and tomorrow to do that paper. We’ve had, what?” I looked at the timepiece. We’d actually been going at it for more than an hour before I stopped him. “We’ve had like an hour and a half of fun time but I want to get back to work.”
“See, Iamie, if you had told me that you only wanted a limited engagement this evening, I would have worked to bring things to a more satisfying conclusion,” he said. “And I would call that an effective compromise between my desire to plunder your depths all night long and your dedication to your schoolwork. You know, it’s surprising to me how someone whose body bends so fetchingly can be so inflexible in his thinking.”
“Yeah, it’s surprising to me that someone as clever and witty as you can’t come up with lines to get in my pants that don’t sound like insults,” I said.
“If you want me to work harder to get into your pants, you might work harder at keeping them on,” he said, putting his hand over my semihard cock and cupping my balls. There was a little twitch at his touch, but I turned away. He grabbed my ass with both hands, lifting and squeezing.
“Iason,” I said.
“I am simply going to finish what you started, lovely Iamie,” he said. “Nothing more.”
I sighed and braced my arms on my desk. He plowed into me without any art, like he was jerking off.
Like he was an automaton. Or like I was.
The disregard made the whole thing feel dirtier, which made it hotter, which made me angrier, which made it hotter still. That was what bothered me. That was why I’d stopped. I didn’t want to revel in that. I didn’t want to get used to it.
It wasn’t the sort of thing I wanted to count among my turn-ons.
I came, squirting on the edge of the desk, but I kept my mouth shut and tried not to show it. I felt him shudder and shoot off inside me. He kept going. I figured he was just working through the aftershocks, but then he came again and started building up even more speed.
“Enough!” I said.
“Alright!” he said, but he pulled my hips against himself and strained hard until he came a third time.
“Next time you stop when I say,” I said.
“I did,” he said. “I finished when you told me to. If you want to do orgasm denial and chastity games, Iamie, you are going to need a kinkier lover than I.”
“Being denied a third orgasm, after over an hour of having some fairly steady ones, is not exactly a hardship.”
“I would think someone of your experience would have a better understanding of the elven libido,” Iason said.
“I understand it just fine,” I said. “It’s like the elven lifespan; if nothing interrupts you, you can keep going until you decide to bring things to an end. I was nice enough to let you finish. You could have ended on the first or second one instead of pressing on for the third. That was a choice.”
“Forgive me for wanting my time with you this evening to end with something special,” Iason said.
“For you, maybe,” I said.
“Well, yes,” he said. “You had already made it clear that you would not enjoy it. I’m not going to be made to feel guilty for taking delight in you, Iamie. You have a delightful body. I would feel ashamed to not take pleasure from it.”
It was a creepy compliment, but it was a compliment. I glowered at him, but my cock had its own response. Iason’s responded to that.
He looked hopeful.
I looked for my boxers.
“If you were that charming to begin with, maybe we’d still be having at it,” I said, grabbing a handful of tissues to clean myself off and wipe off the desk.
“Again, you give me mixed messages,” Iason said. “One day I am to be honest and forthright and tell you exactly what I want, and the next you expect me to put on an act if I want to get anywhere with you.”
“I’m bothered by the idea that your charming side is an act,” I said, pulling on my underwear. “I don’t trust someone who can turn that kind of thing on and off so effortlessly. It makes me wonder if anything you do is real.”
“Any act I put on for you is a real one, I assure you,” he said.
“You’re funny,” I said. “That’s bad right now. I need you to be serious.”
“Seriously, Iamie? All charm is an act,” Iason said. “To charm someone, that is an action. It takes intent. If you are going to be mistrustful of anyone, my dear Iamie, it should be the scoundrels within whom the act of charming has become so ingrained a habit that they engage in it reflexively all the time.”
“There’s a word for those people in Pax,” I said. “We call them ‘nice’.”
“It’s a funny word,” Iason said. “It used to mean ‘exacting, precise, proper’. Perhaps it still does… your so-called ‘nice’ person acts in precisely the proper way to exact what he wants from those he meets.”
“Some people are just nice to everyone they meet.”
“Show me one, and I will show you a man who wants something from everyone he meets.”
I handed him his vest.
“I’ve got stuff to do,” I said. “Goodnight, Iason.”
“Very well, Iamie,” he said, gathering his other things. He got dressed as he spoke. “I shall leave you alone. Work on your paper. I will not disturb you tomorrow night, as no doubt you will be rushing to finish it, but I shall see you in class on Wednesday, and we can make our plans for the evening then.”
“I look forward to it,” I said.
I wanted it to be sarcastic, but I was totally hard again by the time he’d pulled his pants up over his non-existent hips.
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