Part It Like The Red Sea

Jackson’s hands paused between my legs when I said that. He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at me. 

“Just sexual…” he repeated, his voice low.

I nodded even though it wasn't a question. “You wanted me, I wanted you. We both had what we wanted, and we'd be lying if we said it was just a one-time thing.” That sex was too good to be a one-time thing. I don't know about him, but I definitely don't want it to be a one-time thing. “So we should just keep it that way. Purely sexual, and not expect anything else from each other.”

He kept staring at me, and then he hummed softly. His hands went back to washing my core like he’d done this countless times, and I wanted to melt. In shame or arousal, I couldn't tell. 

“I know.” 

I exhaled as something uncurled in my chest. “Good.” 

He washed the soap off me, and then turned me to wash my back. I wanted to object, say I had hands that functioned perfectly well, but it wasn't every day a sexy Englishman washed you while he slowly massaged you. So I pressed my mouth shut and accepted the free massage. 

His thumbs dug into the back of my neck, and another moan of relief slipped out of me when I felt the tension slowly fade.

“This must be why your panties are always up in a bunch,” he whispered as he closed the little space between our bodies, and I stiffened when I felt his dick resting on my ass. A very hard, and very heavy dick. “There’s so much tension in you.”

“It’s not intentional,” I muttered as he kept on.

“I know, darling.” His voice grew softer. “I know.”

After he was done washing my back, he turned off the shower and led me out. I wanted to object too when he started drying me up, but didn't. I was distracted by that erect shaft between his legs. Wasn’t… wasn't he going to do anything about it? My voice might still be hoarse, and I was still sore, but I was up for round two. I wanted to stack up as many orgasms as I could before this night ended. 

But Jackson just went on drying my hair even as my eyes kept dropping to his dick. After that he just… he just left me sitting on the bed as he went back to the bathroom. I listened as the shower was turned on, sitting very still as I waited, still naked. My body was still humming, literally vibrating, and I had to rub my thighs together to find a bit of relief. 

When the shower turned off, my spine stiffened as he stepped out, drying his hair with a towel, and looking so delicious. Droplets of water dripped down his body, and I wanted to lick him the way they were licking him. His bicep flexed as he dried his hair, his very much still erect dick dangling between his legs as he moved. 

God, this man cannot be real. 

He put the towel away and walked to me, his eyes heated and fixed on mine. He stopped in front of me.

“So…” he said, his voice low. “What now?”

I swallowed. “Huh?”

What now? How about you spread my legs apart like the Red Sea, and drive that beautiful cock in me until I’m–

“Do you want me to drive you home, or you’d rather stay since it’s late?”

I blinked at him. And then blinked some more. Did I hear him right? “H-huh?”

“Has your vocabulary been limited to that one word?” he asked, an eyebrow raised, his voice serious. 

“But…” I stared down at his dick before I stared back at his eyes. “But you’re–”

I pressed my mouth shut. 

Will he think I'm too loose, or have a high libido? I mean, his dick was about to poke me in the eye, but what if that’s just normal for him? I swallowed my words. 

“I’ll sleep over.”

He smiled softly, and my heart skipped a beat. He walked to the other side of the bed, and it dipped with his weight. He got under the sheets, and then tapped the side of the bed.

“Come on.”

I stared at him for a while before I sighed deeply and got under the sheets as well. I turned my back to him, maintaining a distance from him. But then he wrapped his hand around my waist, and I gasped softly when he drew me closer to him until his chest was pressed totally to my back, and I… I could feel… his dick pressing into my ass. 

Was he really going to sleep like that? No, the better question was: do fuck buddies sleep like this? In a position so… intimate? And the way my body completely melted into his arms was embarrassing and alarming, and yet I felt so… safe. I didn't want to move a single inch. 

His arm was tight around my waist, but then it moved up to my stomach, and he just… touched it, pressed it a bit, and drew lazy circles around my navel. 

I don’t know why, but that made my eyes burn. Geez, I was running high on different emotions today. He nuzzled his face into the back of my neck before his nose moved to my hair, and then he… he inhaled softly.

“God,” he muttered in a rough voice. “Your scent is mixed with mine. It’s bloody intoxicating.” 

I couldn't say anything. My throat was too thick to form words. 

“And you feel warmer than I thought,” he muttered, chuckling softly like this was an inside joke. 

I swallowed to push the lump down my throat. “H-how many times have you thought about it?”

His hand pressed into my stomach in an almost possessive way. Now, I was just being silly. 

“I’ve lost count.”

“So… you’re always thinking about me?”

He didn't answer immediately. “Like I told you in the kitchen that night, you’re consuming me.”

I said nothing else. I just stared ahead, feeling the solid, warm body behind me. 

Have I… have I ever been held? I never knew my mother. I didn't know if she was dead or alive, and Marshall has never, for one day, talked about her. Did she use to hold me? Was there a time when Marshall held me? Was this really the first time I've been held so… lovingly? God, I was really pathetic.

“Will I see you at the game tomorrow?” Jackson asked in a sleepy voice that made him sound… cute. 

Cute, Siri? Fucking seriously?

“Yes,” I answered, hoping he was too sleepy to notice the slight shake in my voice.

“Without those two adults?”

“Yes.”

His hand pressed into my stomach again. “Thank you.”

I squeezed my eyes until white spots dotted my vision when they did something ridiculous: they burned.