FicWad

It's a common enough thing, now, that I'm never surprised when I hear the bathroom door open and see the vague silhouette of Kiros' frame through the foggy, mottled glass. I open the door, smile, normally say that I'll be out in a minute, and he'll smile a little and kiss me and say that he's got a minute, but that's all and then he has to go, because he's practically running a country. I pretend to be upset, say maybe I don't want him to run a country today, and he'll laugh. Sometimes he sits on the counter, sometimes on the floor, but he stays in the bathroom, and when I get out of the shower, he's right there, talking to me or laughing, or sacrificing the dryness of his clothes to push me up against a hard surface and kiss me until I can't see straight.

So it starts out the same today, when I hear the door open. But I've got soap in my eye and I've overslept, so I don't make my little jokes, don't even lean out to wish him a good morning or anything. I'm grumbling, trying to figure out why today has decided to be so /difficult/, and so I don't hear the shift of clothing, but I do hear the glass door opening.

He's cooler than the water, but not by much-my own personal hot fucking water bottle, no joke-and he wraps one arm around me and uses his free hand to brush my hair out of my face and blindly rinse the soap out. He laughs a little, saying that if it weren't for him than where would I be, and I grumble something about how I'd probably either be dead or back in Winhill-because I'm tired and frustrated and not really thinking-and he goes very still for a second. Then, he's back to rinsing out my hair, but he's quiet now, and I'm still too out of sorts to apologize for my own stupidity.

After all the soap is gone, he keeps me from getting out of the shower, and I say that I have to go because I'm late and he asks when did that start mattering to me and laughs a little and wraps both arms around me as the water falls over us. I remember being a kid, of seeing him and letting his hair down and making out in the showers where nobody would notice because nobody was there, and I lean into him. He smells just like he did, only older-still sea-salt and Centran dust, even though he hasn't seen Centra in something close to twenty-four years or whatever, but I suppose he'll always smell like that because it's part of who he is, and if he doesn't than something wouldn't be quite right.

He chuckles a little, says something to go with the words I didn't mean to speak out loud, but I'm not really listening. My hands are on his back, tracing up and down corded muscles, and he'll move a little bit with each quick pass of my fingers. Suddenly, we're out of the spray-or I am-and my back's to the wall, and he's made me look at him and he's kissing me like if he doesn't the world is gonna end. Which is, you know, really nice and all, and makes the day seem like it might turn out a little better. But I'm /late/, and if I'm late than so is he, and this isn't the time to be making out in a shower.

So I push him off-check out my self control-and I get out of the shower and grab a towel, but he follows him, and takes the towel and doesn't let me leave. He pushes me up against the counter, and the mirror isn't fogged because I'd complained once and they'd changed the fucking mirrors, so I can see us reflected. His head is buried in my neck, and I'm blushing like an idiot, but I try not to notice that. I try to think un-sexy, and notice that my hair is turning gray and that I'm getting crows-feet and laugh lines and age spots, but un-sexy things are hard to think about when you have hands on your hip and a hard cock pressed against your ass. Un-sexy things are hard to focus on when you have someone like Kiros-who even at fucking forty-six looks like he's /twenty/-biting your neck and lifting a hand to your mouth.

We don't switch it up like this often. We didn't start switching it up until after he found me in Winhill and he seemed to realize that just because I was older didn't mean that I had to be in charge of sex. Still, when he gets demanding and forceful, it's a change of pace. And when his fingers slid into my mouth, I do my level best to wet them and still think un-sexy thoughts. But that's hard to do with breath on the back of your ear and fingers in your mouth.

I try to tell myself that I'm all blushed and hot because of the shower-the water was hot, because that wakes me up and all that, you know-but he's really tight against my back, and he is really hot, and his fingers are slick in my mouth but now he's just messing around. He knows he can't do anything that we would've when we were younger-oh that sounds lame. Anyway, he can't bite or scratch or anything too hard, and we have to go slow because I have to be able to walk and sit and shit, and not have people looking at me like I shouldn't ought to be doing stuff in my spare time.

So it takes him a couple seconds before he decides that, Yeah, his fingers really are that wet, and he can probably get away with taking them out of my mouth and if he's real slow about, we can probably do this.

And now I can't quite look away. It's not like I can see much, because the counter comes up to my fucking belly-button (which is fine and all, when I'm not getting shoved up against it for horny sex), but it's kinda like watching porn or something-which, with Kiros hanging around, I don't do a whole lot of, because really I can just wander over to his apartments and have my wicked, wicked way with him-because it doesn't look quite right, and so I can just say that it's not us.

Which totally does not make me not worry about getting in trouble for being late any less. Really. But it is kinda hot. I mean sure, older guys, but . . . not that old and all, and it's just like a movie or something.

And, you know, there's that whole thing about how his fingers are in my ass and the first time he did that I told him, afterwards and all, that I totally got why he would like being bottom because things like that felt surprisingly nice, and that it probably felt even better for me because he's had years to learn just how to do that and his fingers are longer than mine.

He threatened to smother me with a pillow. Ungrateful bastard.

Anyway, so that kinda detracts from the whole I'm-Watching-Porn feel, because I've watched porn and I've never ended up like this while watching it. Doesn't happen. Well, maybe this one time/, but that doesn't count, because it was /just the fingers, not the breathing on the neck and the light bites on the shoulders and the quiet sounds of /Kiros/-

Who looks over my shoulder and kisses my jaw and is doing this thing with his fingers that turns my knees into jelly and I have to hold onto the counter real hard or else I'll fall down, and I kinda push back against him, because it, ya know . . . feels really good, even if I am gonna get in trouble.

(We've played games like this before, and it's usually about here that he composes himself with this inhuman will and proceeds to leave me hot and bothered and tell me that I need to get down to the office because a dignitary is coming or I have an interview with some volunteers for the military or I have /paperwork/. I usually threaten to can his ass and he reminds me that than he'd just have to hang around my apartments all day and that just puts these lovely little Naked Kiros thoughts in my head for the rest of the day. He's horrible, really.)

Then, all of a sudden, there's no fingers, just this gentle nudge/, and normally I'm pretty good about being quiet when I'm being stubborn and not /really wanting to do it but doing it anyway. But then he does this thing with his hips, and it's almost better than that thing he does with his tongue when he gives blowjobs, because this thing involves cock instead of tongue. So I'm not quite as quiet as I normally would be.

That means I let out this ungodly yowling moan and he laughs at me. Ungrateful bastard.

So here I am, dripping wet and starting to get a little cold, impaled on Kiros Cock (and yes, that is a very nice place to be, thank you very much), about to break off a chunk of my counter because I'm really trying to actually support my weight and everything, and he starts moving/, and I can't really stay quiet when he does things like that, now can I? So it's really nice and all, and then I /look at the mirror again/, and that is a /really nice shot.

Something is seriously wrong with me. Because at fifty-one, I shouldn't be that turned on by Dripping-Wet-Horny-Sex-Against-A-Counter. It shouldn't happen. I should not be capable of this much sex.

But nobody told my libido that. And, being as I'm rather occupied, I'm not about to go and tell it either. It can wait-everything can wait-until we're-.

Kiros moans in my ear, and that is /it/. Last straw.

I wonder if I'd always been so easy. I know if I ask Kiros, he'd smile and laugh at me. After he was done staring at me like I was some sort of idiot or something.

"Kiros," I'm grumbling, the counter digging into my hips. "Off. I'm bruising." He makes this quiet little noise, doesn't move for a little bit, than slowly backed off. There's this smile on his lips when I catch his reflection in the mirror.

"Feeling better?" he asks, kissing my shoulder. Damn, dirty cheater, that man. Damn, dirty cheater. Doesn't play by the rules. Unfair.

"Yeah."

"Good." He grabs a towel and hands it to me. We're pretty close to being dry, though, actually. I take it anyway. He kisses me gently. "You've got work to do, you know."

"Yeah, well, somebody decided I need a good-morning fuck." I try to glare at him. It turns into a smile. He laughs and kisses me again. "Aren't you friendly."

"It's a good day," was all he says.

And he's right.