Also, guess the other player. ;) Prompt from bartleby.
Josh's hands still and he flicks his eyes up. "Just what the fuck do you mean by that?" He asks coldly.
I squirm and shrug under his gaze; there is an apology on my lips that never quite comes. And, as my right mind sets in, that apology never does.
"Nothin'," I reply quietly, staring at him through the mirror before us. "Just thought, ya know, you couldn't keep me away for too long." He seems to ponder this and resumes stroking my cock, my hands still planted alongside the mirror, unable to help, or push him away. He slides in slowly from behind, every inch of him sending balls of firey hot pleasure chasing up my spine. I call out, my breath leaving a thick film on the glass as his insistant thrusting coincides with the downstroke of his able hands. Through the haze of my lust, I watch him watch me, that same knowing dark look glittering in his eyes. It's enough to make me come in his hands, his deliciously persistant hands, pulling and tugging at my skin till I have to push them away.
His hands move to my hips, holding me steady as he pounds away at my ass. I keep waiting for the pain to set in, the familiar pain that follows everything I love like an ominous shadow. He comes before the pain does, silent and rigid, those big blue eyes peering at me through the mirror. His top lip curls as he pulls out, and the pair of them threaten to split into a grin as he zips back up. Before I register the movement, he pulls up my pooled jeans from my ankles and carefully zips me up too.
Confused, I stare at him. I thought there'd be more; I'd hoped he'd tell me what I could never tell him. Instead, he pulls a smoke from his pocket and stares at me as he lights it.
"See ya, fucker." I watch him leave through the mirror, like I'd been watching the whole thing from another room, or another time entirely. Gently, I press my forehead to the glass and sigh, imagining what shape my breath will make this time. Then the pain hits.
"See ya, buddy."