From: syzygyshan@warpmail.net Date: 13 Oct 2003 06:12:06 -0700 Subject: [atxc-pi] NEW: Dangerous -NC-17- (0/2) Source: atxc Title: Dangerous Author: Shannon Kizzia Feedback Email: syzygyshan@warpmail.net Author's Website: http://hegalplace.com/shannon/ Archive at Gossamer: Yes to Gossamer Status: NEW - Series Size: 28k Category: Story, Romance, RST, PWP Pairings: Mulder/Krycek Rating: NC-17 Gossamer Category: Story ~ Sex (PWP) ~ Slash Sequel to: Two Great Tastes Summary: Phone sex. Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for story information. Dangerous by Shannon Kizzia (shannon@hegalplace.com) Rating: NC-17 for naughties Pairing: M/K Series/Status: Sequel to `Two Great Tastes' Spoilers: Not a thing. Keywords: PWP, phones, cuffs Summary: No peanut butter. No chocolate. Just Alex. Back for a little recompense. Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda. Notes: Read TGT first. It's short and sweet. Hope you like the continuation. I got to practice my dialogue with this one. It's still not something that you would have seen on the show by any stretch, but it's a bit less fluffy than TGT was. Archive: Sure, but I'd like the two stories to go together. Date of First Posting: by the time I'm done beta-ing it'll probably be early 10/11/03. Sign: Virgo Favorite Song: Inertia Creeps by Massive Attack (Go read the story by the same name, by the way! Kudos to Ladonna King!) Enough with my rambling. On with the story... .................... "Mulder," I answer on the sixth ring. "Hey, Fox. What's new?" Silence. His and mine. But then I'm surprised that I can actually just barely hear his breathing over the blood pounding through my brain. I grip the Garfield beach towel tighter around my waist and stand there dripping on my keyboard. "I think I asked you a question, Mulder." "Yeah, well, I don't answer to my first name. You oughta know that by now, Alex," I answer cooly. Least I think it was cool. I'm a little dizzy. There's another round of quiet in which I try not to feel embarrassed for not filling it. "So?" he asks. "So what, Krycek? What's this about?" "I asked you what's new. Did you think that was a rhetorical question or something?" I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder and situate the towel around my hips so that I'll have both hands free. Somehow it feels more physically dangerous to talk to this man on the phone than it does in person. Maybe because here I can't see his sweaty, wide-eyed, nervous face and thereby ascertain his level of fear. Or arousal, my perfect and enthusiastic memory supplies. I swallow, unsure why I'm about to answer rather than just hanging up on him. "I'm sorry are you speaking, ratfuck? Since I found out you're a lying, traitorous bastard I've kind of stopped listening to you." I inhale quietly on the lie and I'm actually curious about what his answer will be. It's a short, breathy laugh. It turns me on. "What are you wearing, Mulder?" I blink. And then I take a step back, grasping the towel and pulling it tighter as I look around. "Are my questions too difficult?" he proceeds when I don't offer an answer. My mouth opens. "Maybe you'd like to go back to the first one instead?" "What the fuck are you doing, Krycek?" "Trying to have a conversation with you, Mulder, but you're not making it very easy." I frown. "I don't have time for your mindfucks. If you've got something to say, say it," I demand, trying to sound bored. I'm not gonna let him get me angry unless it's in person and I can get physical with it. "Mulder," he sighs. "You're one jaded son of a bitch." "And you're not?" He chuckles again. "That's different." "How?" My hand's on my hip now and I'm staring down the desk chair like it's him. I expect the dusty wood slats to blaze aflame at any moment. "I've got good reason," he explains. "I..." I begin, my voice just now rising, but he interrupts me rudely. "Mulder, this is boring. Let's talk about something else." I roll my eyes and snort. "I'm not fucking here to entertain you, Krycek." "Then hang up," he says smoothly. I pause to see if his breathing is shaky with the bluff but then realize my own silence could be mistaken for capitulation. Before I can form a quick, cutting answer, he's talking again. I firm my jaw. "Yeah, well, anyway, what I wanna talk about I think you have a vested interest in, so if you're not gonna hang up, you might wanna actually listen." I can't help that my breath gets shallow and soft and I try not to move. Whether I like it or not, he's got my attention. I make myself sigh to prove an apathy I'm far from feeling. "Go ahead." I hear him inhale on the other end of the line and wonder where he's calling from. "You owe me." I blink my eyes wider, looking at the desk chair with incredulity. Then I lean back slightly and wrap my free arm around my my middle, letting my phone elbow rest on it. "I do," I ask, but I make it sound like a statement of upmost disbelief. "Yeah," he husks. I shiver and am glad he's not here to see it. I snort again. "You're delusional, Krycek." "Call me Alex," he says in that aggravating rumble of his. He even sounds like leather. "In your dreams," I say, ignoring the fact that I've fallen into clich. His voice drops even deeper. "Every fucking night, Mulder." My mouth opens. My arm slides away from my body. "Are you there?" he asks. It's the first time he's sounded anything but calm and confident. I clear my throat but only manage, "Yeah." His breathing is like a still-distant, but fastly approaching freight train. "So...like I was saying...you owe me." I go for derisive laughter but it comes out more like an asthmatic moan. "For what?" "For leaving me in that alley like that you prick-tease son of a bitch." His voice is like soft silk sheets gently pulled over then away from my naked body. I close my eyes, but try to keep my voice even, revealing nothing. "I can't help it if you're a complete slut, Krycek." I concentrate on my respiration. He's right, dammit. I just got very interested. I reach out and drop my blinds with an unceremonial thunk and then twist the slim rod to close them completely. Like someone is going to see me talking to him. "You can help it," he tells me breathlessly. Geez, if he ever wanted to disengage from his criminal lifestyle, he'd be more than successful on a 1-900 line. "You don't seem to understand something, I don't want to," I lie bald-facedly. "Tell ya what," he keeps going as if I didn't just reject him. "If you get me off over the phone, I'll come over there and suck your cock. How does that sound?" I open my mouth in righteous indignation, intending to voice any number of adjectives ranging from hideous to unthinkably horrifying to unnecessarily masochistic on my part to absolutely ridiculous. What comes out on the other hand...is a low, wordless groan. Then to counter, "Krycek, I don't want your filthy mouth on me." There is no conviction there whatsoever. I wonder what happened to the staunchly masculine, arrogant bravado I had set up in that alley. Maybe I was high on the chocolate. "So you just wanna talk dirty to me for free then?" "Wha? No!" I shout, clueing in late. "Krycek, don't you have anything better to do with your time than to try to coerce phone sex from people who hate you?" I almost don't know why I'm persisting. I guess it's just pride. I want him. He knows it. Why can't I give in? Is it really because I hate him? Do I still? I close my eyes again. I don't think I do. I wonder if hell really exists and if I'm gonna go there for this. "Didn't feel like hate in that alley," he says softly and I think I might have hurt his feelings. I sigh. "I'm...I'm wearing a Garfield beach towel." I hear him gasp. And then he snorts. "Really?" I smile a little and pull the desk chair out, finally sitting down. "Yeah," I tell him, letting the smile into my voice. "Interesting," he says, and I don't know if it really is to him or if he's humoring me. Dangerous. He's so dangerous to me like this. "Is it?" I chance asking. He breathes. "Yeah, Mulder." "So..." I start, to my horror beginning to tremble. My hand already lies close to my crotch on my leg. I feel the blood sing through my cock as it stiffens without a touch, without one pornographic word. I'm not doing this, am I? I'm going to laugh and hang up on him. Right? I hear him just breathing. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and swallow hard. My voice is almost inaudible. "What do you want?" A sigh. A shaky inhale. A creak, like a chair, or leather. God, leather. "I want...you to call me Alex." Shit. So sweet. His voice so low and quiet...entreating. And he's so easy. Just call him Alex. I'm floored by his simple request. "Will that get you hard?" I ask, abandoning myself with each new word, with each moment I stay on the line with him. "Already...hard," he answers. I gasp. "Are you...touching yourself?" I ask, refraining from his one request so far. "Mm-hmm," he moans. "Little bit." "God..." Under my breath. Almost nothing. My hand twitches. "Are you in jeans?" I hear myself ask. "Yeah," he returns. I love the way he sounds. I let my mouth open as I imagine him, pushed up against the brick wall...hard for me...me hard for him. I regain some measure of strength to my voice when I ask, "You got your hand down them, Krycek?" He pauses, breath catching, maybe on the disappointment of his last name. I find myself unable to give him what he wants. I can have illicit phone sex with him, but I refuse to say his name. It feels like the last defense. And I'm gonna stand my ground on it. "N-no...not yet." I take a breath. "Do it." He groans something like God and I spread my legs, my dick filling, lifting, plumping up ready for him...for this. "Okay," he sighs. I reach up and flick the towel loose so that I'm sitting on it with my erection uncovered. I'm sweating. "Are you gripping it in your fist?" "Wh-whatever you want...Mulder..." I brush my own fingers lightly down the length of my cock, and I stifle a sigh of abject happiness. It's not like all the other times I've touched myself. It's so different with him here. The shared lust sharpens me and makes me feel drunk at the same time. "Touch it...soft," I tell him. "Unnn..." he replies and I know he's doing it. I picture those strong fingers, able to strangle a man without significant effort, tickling his flesh like I'm doing with mine. "How does it feel?" I inquire. "Isss...good." A few shorter, hitching breaths that have me wanting to jerk hard and fast to orgasm. I don't. Somehow that would feel like cheating. "What else...do you want?" he asks. I've begun to breathe hard. "I want... I want you to feel me touching you," I exhale, fingers stroking up to the head of my cock and hovering there, teasing. "Oh...Mulder..." "'sgood..." I say absently, fingering myself, hips bucking up for more, and I deny myself. "I want you to touch me," he croons. Alex Krycek croons. It registers somewhere in my brain. I'll come back and gawk at it later. Right now I want him crying my name. "I'm gonna..." I start, realizing against the fog of my mind that the game is changing mid-round. More him...more me... Interactive. "I'm gonna wrap my hand around your c-cock.," I tell him, doing it now. "Unnnnn..." "Yeah..." "You like it?" I'd meant for it to be a statement, almost a command. "OhyeahMulder," he breathes and the sudden stiffness in my shoulders recedes. "Jerk me off. I need it." "Do you?" I ask more smoothly than I would have thought possible. "Do you need me to make you come?" I start to move my hand in earnest. Up and down my cock. Lazy but purposeful, denying my own need. "Yes, Mulder. Need you." My eyes open on it. He stripped away the pretense. He bared that confession. Made it more than sex, more than a hand on his dick working hard flesh. I'd wonder why but I don't want to think about anything except his harsh breathing and my own hand around my cock, pulling now. I smell my own musk threading up to my nostrils through the clean smell of my soap. I'm leaking. "I'm gonna...pull on your cock," I tell him, closing my eyes again and thrusting gently into my own touch. "I'm gonna...watch you start to cry because it's...so gooood." He groans plaintively. God, I hope he's really touching himself over there. It occurs to me that he could be faking just to humiliate me in the end. "Krycek," I growl. "What, Mulder?" he gasps. Then quietly, almost sobbing, "Anything...anything..." OhFUCK. "I wanna fuck...your dick with my...ffffist," I grunt, doing myself hard, hips working in pulsing, driving concert. I hope he's close. "Wanna...hurt you," I say. "Hurt me," he whispers. "Do it to me." Suddenly, I remember a bank of phones, his face so close to mine, blood on his nose and lip. "Shit," I hiss, balls coiling tight. "Want you so much, Alex," I cry. "Ohgod*yes*," he sobs and with the moans and wails following, I know I have him coming. His name. I said his name. And it's making him come. Three more quick slaps of my hand and it makes me come, too. "Alex!!! Ohfuuuhhhh..." I groan, shooting thick ribbons of cum all over myself. I keep my hand and hips moving as I throw my head back, phone dropping to the floor as I lose the ability to control my body. "Uuuunnnnnnnnn!" I groan as the last of it pulls from my body on a delicious tremor. I take two breaths and then realize I've dropped Alex on the floor. Alex. I lean over as quickly as my satiation will let me and pick up the receiver. I hold it for a moment, scared to put it back up to my ear. It seems like a very conscious choice to go back to him. I breathe. I tell myself all I have to do now is act like it wasn't incredible, that it got me off okay and it was good, but that's all it was. It was nothing more than good. And now it's over. I raise the phone and listen for his distinctive breathing. I'm not disappointed. He's murmuring my name in question. I clear my throat. "I, uh, I dropped the phone." He laughs shortly, softly. "Oh. Are you okay?" "Yeah," I say in too casual a tone whose artifice is completely demolished by the shivery, breathy quality of my voice. "Good," he says quietly. "So. If I suck on it...how long do you think before it gets hard again?" "Wh- What??" I ask, sitting bolt upright despite my muscles' desire to stay languidly stretched out naked in my desk chair. "That was the agreement," he intones placidly. I imagine his eyes wide with fake innocence. I exhale loudly and then speak forcefully into the receiver, my heart palpitating dangerously. "Krycek, goddamnit, you can't come over here. This was...it was nothing. All right? There is no way I'm letting you in my front door and if you try to break in, I'll shoot you, Krycek, don't think I won't." I hear a soft click right behind me and turn fast on a loud, painful gasp. Krycek is standing there, gun drawn and aimed, closing his cell phone. "Hey, Mulder. You gonna shoot me?" he asks, and even though his gun is on me, his voice trembles slightly with what sounds like apprehension. Jesus, all I have to shoot with is my soft dick! "Fuck," I whisper loudly, my body tense and shaky with the shock of seeing him there, having stealthily maneuvered himself inside my place without a sound. His eyes drop from my face to my chest, gun never wavering. His gaze traverses my body and I'm glad the chair is turned the way it is so that he can't see everything, although my own cum coating my chest and stomach is damning and obscene enough. I tighten my jaw in embarrassment and anger. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he sighs. Some of the fierce emotion drains out of me, leaving only the spark of a renewed desire for him. His eyes ignite me, licking back up my torso like a tongue of fire. "Where were you, Krycek?" I ask, trying to act more angry and affronted than I feel. "Did you come all over my goddamned front door?" Far from fueling my self-righteousness, I find the idea turns me on. Shit. I wish to God he wasn't here. I can't fight what I feel for him right now. Not like this, naked for him, having come for him, still flushed a dull pink for him, laid out raw. For him. Shit. He smirks at me, but there is more of sadness in it than humor. "Let me make this easier for you," he tells me. I tense as he puts his phone away in a secretive inside jacket pocket and he rummages around for a moment before pulling out... The distinctive and unmistakable metal-shine of handcuffs... "Krycek..." I start nervously, the fear creeping up on me like black oil. I watch him swallow. "Alex..." I try. But my voice dies in my throat as I see him walk toward me. He comes closer...closer...and instead of forcing my head back to look at his face, I stare at his belly, lips parted, breathing quick and excited. I grip the arms of the chair, sitting on my Garfield towel, bare-assed, and scared, and aroused. He's going to see that my dick is partially swollen with need for him. He's going to know that I want this. "Hands behind your back, Mulder." He's got a gun on me. I have to. I flit my eyes to it, trying to keep my features schooled to calm. Then I blink up to him, to his eyes, and see the storm of want there. I shift my wrists behind the chair and hold my hands together. I think I hear him shudder. Then he moves behind me and kneels. I feel his proximity. "Don't move," he instructs near my ear. I just nod. Allowing it. God, what am I doing? Who have I become? I allow my wrists to be cuffed by a wanted man. I close my eyes. My cock swells further and I wince. I feel him move again, and I open my eyes just in time to see him secure the weapon at his back and then drop to his knees right in front of me. I gasp, closing my eyes again. I feel him carefully take hold of the arms of the chair, not touching me, but I flinch just the same. I expect to feel his lips on my cock next, but instead I feel him leaning in closer, slowly. I tense and hold my breath, still unwilling to open my eyes. Then I feel his breath at my ear. He doesn't touch me anywhere. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His whisper strokes me and I'm finding it hard to breathe again. When he draws breath again, I realize he's not done. "I'm gonna make this so good for you, Fox." I frown deeply and want to whine. It's not my first name, it's the way he says it. It's not the fact that he's going to suck my dick, it's that he's going to make it good, make it last, make me lose my mind with it. And I know he can. Then he goes further. "Ever had a mutliple orgasm, Mulder?" I can't stop the groan as I sink down about half a foot further in the chair. I think that's answer enough. He chuckles warmly. Then he palms my face, the first touch...soft and confident...and I open my eyes to see him looking at me. Our eyes lock and my veins sizzle. "Ever been kissed by a lying, traitorous bastard?" Dangerous. My eyes drop to his lips just before he presses them tightly to mine. I grunt, unyielding for a moment before I realize he tastes faintly of cinnamon. And it's not the candy kind. It's spicy and not too sweet and sharp and good. I relax marginally and his mouth softens on mine, gentle tongue tracing my lower lip and then slipping into my mouth surely and slowly. I can believe I'm being kissed by a criminal. It's stealthy and covert while it steals and strokes and takes so good it feels like giving. He tilts his head and deepens it, groaning. He fills me with his tongue and I'm suddenly light-headed and almost terrified about what that's going to feel like on my cock. I realize I'm groaning back, my wrists straining in my restraints, but not to get away, only to get free so that I can fucking TOUCH him. It's like an itch, infernally unscratchable, persistent and cruel. My cock is rock hard from his kiss alone. Why does it have to feel so good? He pulls back, but only to lick and mouth his way down my throat and onto my chest hungrily, sensuously, with panther grace and ultimate finesse. His lips feel like music, all flowing silk control, mastering me. His hands grasp my waist as if to hold me in place. Strong hands on my naked flesh. I shiver and my head falls back in sheer ecstasy. His tongue laves over one nipple, lapping, licking, seducing. Then he bites gently. "Ahh!" I yell in both protest and praise. His teeth tug. "Awfuck," I hiss, turning my head. "Stop." It's a gasp. Instantly his mouth is gone and I cry. "You're sensitive," he says quietly. "I'm sorry, Fox." I nod furiously, not giving a shit that it hurt. Only knowing how it shot solar flares of want down into my cock and how I need his mouth down there sucking me to oblivion like I've needed little else in my life. He snakes that sexy mouth down my body, cleaning up my own cum I realize, and I moan lustily to the ceiling at both the feeling and the knowing. His hands stroke up and down my sides, teasing my armpits and ribs and hipbones as his mouth descends intently. "Mulder..." he breathes against my moistened skin once just below my navel, just above my cock. I practically sob, hips bucking and I feel my cockhead collide clumsily with his chin. He smiles against me. "I want it, too, baby. Hold on." My hands make fists and I look down at him, unable not to watch as his mouth opens and he encloses the head of my dick in his hot, wet mouth. "FfffffaaahhhGod!" He groans deep and hungry, kissing and sucking and nibbling a little. Out of the blue, I'm nearly hyperventilating. He lifts his head. "Don't asphyxiate, Mulder," he tells me, then licks at my slit, prodding it mercilessly. "Breathe... Nice and easy. I'm gonna take you there. Let me take you." It's half-way between a sigh and a growl. Then he sinks his mouth down on me with tight, warm lips, tongue working to swallow me down. "UnnnnJesus!" I'm very religious tonight. I don't have the will or energy to spare worrying about my predictablity. He's too good. He's a cock-sucking genius! Like he invented it for Christ's sake. When I'm lodged firmly in his squeezing throat, I have no choice but to let my head hang back in mindless joy. "OhAlex..." I moan, and it may be the last intelligable thing I manage. Because he starts to fuck his face on me. He fucks it slow. He fucks it deep. He fucks it wet and slippery and impossibly hot. His hands rub up and down my flanks now, moving with the rhythm of his amazing mouth. I watch his head moving against me, into my body, away from my body. I groan at the beautiful sight. Those lashes fluttering open and closed on deep, dark eyes, cheeks hollowed, lips soft and pink around my blood-dark cock. I so want to grab that short, spiky hair and take him. So instead, I thrust my hips up once hard. He doesn't gag, just pulls slowly off and smiles at me. He looks me in the eye, smiling with something like affection and mischief...unbelievable. Then he licks his swollen lips. "Go ahead and fuck me, Mulder." And then he flits his eyes back closed again and sucks me down his throat once more. "Jjjjjjjj!" I exclaim, rigid and still for a moment. Then he moans against me once and I whine and start to pulse my hips up into his sweet, pretty face. Then it's like I can't control my own mouth, muttering filthy curses at him, half-formed epithets that dissolve on my lips like sugar as my whole world becomes my cock in Alex Krycek's mouth. "Guh...fuh...Aleh...good..." I moan in time with his downward fucking mouth and my upward punching cock. When he increases the suction, I cry and thrash my head. When I feel his deft, pursuant fingers trailing softly up my left inner thigh, I suck in my breath and hold it. He sucks off of me. "Mulder," he chides deeply. "Asphyxiation." I groan and nod. He takes me back into the warm, beautiful place that is his mouth and I actually feel tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. I'm careful to keep breathing as I feel his fingers tease my balls, stroking first and then squeezing a little. I swallow and look down at him again. His hand shifts again...lower...behind...and up now... "What'reyou...?" I get out, then gasp as he begins to finger my anus. I grip it tightly against him. Nobody's ever... I don't... "Mmmmmm," he moans enthusiastically around my cock and the sound undoes me, letting me relax into the unfamiliar touch. He makes unhurried circles on my ass, always sucking, always taking care of my aching cock.. I close my eyes and let my lips part on my panting breaths. When he exerts more pressure and actually slips the tip of his finger into my body, my eyes fly open. "Unngod! Alex!" He sucks me harder, faster, and I feel myself build. "Unn! Unnn!" And then he pushes his finger in farther and I come. "OhfuckAlex... UnnNnnnNnnnnn..." He pushes his face into my crotch, keeping me deep and working me tightly. I come long into his throat, screaming to the ceiling, pulling against the cuffs, hips straining up off the chair. I release one last groan. And then he shoves his finger in all the way and rubs over... "OhFUCK!!!" More! There's more! My whole body stiff and shaking, my cock exploding into him again over and over, hot jets ripped from my body by his mouth and throat, his finger moving in me, grinding relentless as I wail and quiver and cry. "Alllleeexxxxxxx," I sob at last, hips falling back as his finger leaves me and he brings his mouth off of me only to lick at me softly, cleaning me up. Shit. Holy goddamned shit. Ohhhhh I want to touch him. "Alex," I whisper past my torn throat. "Alex..." "Mmm," he hums quietly against my softening cockflesh. "Want...to touch..." It's all I can get out. All I can ask for. He kisses me once more, almost chaste. Then looks into my eyes. He takes a breath, then looks down at nothing. "You won't...hurt me?" His soto-voice contains remnants of old fear. Is it so old? I guess not. We feel miles away now, though. "No," I whisper down to him. It brings his gaze back up to mine. "God, Alex, that was..." My eyes plead with him, the power of this experience stripping me of all my defenses. "I need to touch you." His exhale is a tremor that racks his body. He gets up, rising to tower over me and I keep looking up at him, at his gorgeous face. I'd never really, truly noticed. He reaches out and I frown. But he just gently wipes the tear tracks from my face. Then he walks around behind me and releases my bound wrists. I groan and work them in circles, bringing them around in front of me and massaging them a little. I wait for him to come back around again but he doesn't. Slowly, I stand, body ready to cave in on itself in the exhaustion of spent lust. But I step out from the chair and turn to him. I lift my hand, careful not to move too quickly and scare him. What was strength and confidence I saw before in him has turned to a wary anxiety. I see that there is still a small trace of my ejaculate on the corner of his mouth. And I can't help it, growling as I take hold of his hair and pull him into a fierce, open-mouthed kiss. I lick the taste of myself from his lips with a moan of intense pleasure. And there are no other words for it: he melts for me. (Continued in part 2) Part 2 See part 0 for story information. My other arm wraps around his back as he sags against my body with a cry into my mouth. I kiss him more forcefully than he kissed me, but he doesn't seem to mind. I break away only to growl at him to take off his clothes. "But..." he breathes. "That wasn't the deal." I release the back of his head, frowning deeply. "Fuck you. Fuck the deal. Now get those goddamned clothes off and get in my fucking bed or I'll fucking arrest your ass, Krycek." He stares at me for a moment and it hasn't even dawned on me how ridiculous what I said was when a glowing smile bursts over his face. I blink at him. And then I swallow and look down, realization softening the moment, and a small smile flits at my lips. I look back up at him as he chuckles. "Well?" I ask, feigning frustration. "Get in my fucking bed!" The smile fades, but his eyes are shining with something deeper than amusement. I swallow, knowing where this is going and also knowing I'm not going to stop it. Even if that means I'm crazy. I reach for him again, stroking his face. "Alex..." I was going to say more, but that seems to be the gist of it. So I kiss him again, gentler now but with the promise of unending desire. I've never wanted anyone like this. As I push the jacket off his shoulders, still kissing him, I think I could let the other us go...bury it for good. When I hear the zippers click on the hardwood, I moan into his mouth. He returns it. A new contract. A new agreement. Dangerous, but good. Oh so good. End Feedback cuffed and loved at shannon@hegalplace.com! Thanks for reading!! ### The End ###