Just A Spoonful of Sugar…
I shake it off, lift my arms above my head and stretch out one more time then make my way to the little kitchen area around the corner. He’s sitting at the small, two-seater table up against the window, holding the coffee cup up in the air in one hand, some retreat info in the other. He’s sitting cock-eyed to the table; his legs crossed, just a tad effeminately I might add, his hair sticking up in all directions and flat on one side. Damn, I love morning Brian.
He looks up at me then cracks a mischievous grin. “Someone looks freshly fucked this morning.” My hand that happens to be scratching my balls instinctively goes to my own head and busses my hair around. I’m sure it looks the same as his. I huff and decide to blow it off. I smile back at him.
I glance to the table and on the opposite side of where he’s sitting is an empty coffee cup that he obviously placed there especially for me. As I pass by him to get there, I drag my hand over his head, he leans into it so I mess his hair up even more. He turns around and grabs the coffee pot off the counter directly behind him and fills my cup then returns the pot to the warmer plate.
Not only am I pretty sure that Brian’s right that I look freshly fucked, I’m feeling like it too. I think this grin is permanently stuck on my face and my giddiness is getting hard to control. All he did was pour me a cup of coffee but that simple gesture makes me grin just the same as if he’d made some magnanimous declaration of undying love or something. A tingle shoots down my back lighting up little goose bumps on my ass.
The throb throbs and the ache aches. A gentle reminder that, yes, I’m most definitely, freshly fucked, giddy as hell and grinning like a fool.
I pull the chair out, place my hands on the table and ease myself slowly down. My breath hitches in a gasp louder than I meant it to and my shoulders rise up as my sore ass makes contact with the hard, wood surface. They should have padded chairs, I think. A slight hiss escapes my lips when I put all my weight on the chair, my shoulders relax and I reach for my coffee cup. I look up and see that he’s been watching me; he smiles and huffs. I just smile back, again with that goofy grin and he shakes his head, taking another sip of his coffee.
The cup makes it way to my mouth. With the hot ceramic edge of the cup pressed against my lips, I blow into it and breathe in the coffee-flavored steam then take a big drink. It burns all the way down, but that’s exactly what I needed.
“Are you okay?” he asks out of the blue. I look up at him and he seems genuinely concerned.
“More than okay. Why?”
He shrugs slightly and takes another drink of his coffee. “Just checking. You’re little drama routine during the simple task of sitting your ass down in a chair…” his voice trails off and he shakes his head a little. “…I don’t know. Just wanted to make sure.”
“I’m fine, Brian. You know how I love it when you leave your mark on me.” I tease him and grin some more while taking another sip… it spills and I hold it over the table. “Shit!”
He hands me a napkin and chuckles. “It’s not really the same thing though, now is it?”
I wipe off my chin. “Hmm. I guess not. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?” he interrupts quickly.
“It’s just…” I sing-song then continue, “these chairs are kind of hard, don’t ya think? What about you? You sitting pretty this morning?” I ask in that ‘cat-who-just-ate-the-canary’ kind of way. I raise my eyebrows up and back down quickly and shift my eyes around the table to look at his ass. I can’t stop grinning.
He rolls his eyes at me. “I can take anything you dish out, little boy.” I furrow my brows and glare at him. “I… have amazing resilience,” he says emphasizing the ‘I’ as if I don’t.
“Smartass. I kind of remember you not being able to take it so well last night. Grabbing my hand, to make me to stop. Wimp.”
“Mmmm. Is that so?” He gets up and goes over to the counter. There’s a basket there that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Yeah, that’s so.” I answer softly. I’m a little disinterested in the conversation now since the basket has my curiosity peaked. He flips back the lid, sticks his hand inside and pulls it back out with a bagel in tow. My eyes widen. He turns to me and holds it up with raised eyebrows. I nod so he tosses it to me then reaches in for another one before returning to the table.
With bagels in hands and mouths, our vicious banter comes to a halt. Call that one a draw. Not really worth the points anyway considering it’s all just bullshit. I don’t think there’s anything that one of us could do that the other couldn’t handle. We’re just in sync that way.
He grabs the pot of coffee and refills his cup then tops off mine. He puts it back and proceeds to add three creamers and five packs of sugar to his cup. He has this whole routine when he drinks his coffee. It’s rather amusing, I think. Add the stuff, then stir, but not in a circle like most people, no, he goes back and forth six or seven times while he’s reading the paper. Then he bangs the spoon on the side of the cup twice then lays it on the saucer, picks up the cup and takes a slurping sip. Of course, he’s not reading the paper today, but otherwise, it’s the same scene.
And he thinks I’m a princess? I drink mine black. Straight up. No fuss. No muss. I pick up a few of the brochures and thumb through them looking for Decadent Dungeon. I’m just curious. I find it. So we read, drink our coffee and eat our bagels while making small talk every now and then. He’s got some ideas forming about the campaign for this place already and he shares them with me.
I listen as I look at the brochure and can’t help getting excited about all the new things that we could do in that suite, if we were to come back here. He talks about how the ads should capitalize on what the real appeal is and my mind wanders to what, I think, this retreat is really all about. New things. Getting to know each other again. Remembering all the wonderful things that you like about each other without any interference from the outside world. That’s why people come here. That’s the appeal.
His thoughts seem to mirror mine and I start to think about this morning and what Brian did. Makes me wonder. Why something new today? Why this weekend? Why in this place? Did Brian fall victim to its charm emotionally? And did it have an effect on how he feels about me? I lay the brochure down on the table, look up at him and smile.
He feels my stare and glances up. “What?”
“This morning.”
“What about it?” he asks grinning back at me like he’s having a fond memory. I feel the heat of a blush on my cheeks and I roll my eyes.
“How come we haven’t done that before?” I ask.
He looks me right in the eye then looks out the window. I didn’t think it was a question that would require this much thought. An uncomfortable feeling settles in my back teeth then I realize it’s because I’m clenching my jaw. The grin I’ve been sporting for the last hour finally dissipates. “Brian?” I say to get his attention.
“I wasn’t sure you’d enjoy it,” he answers immediately.
Huh? Why would that answer be so hard to say? “Well, I did,” I tell him matter of factly.
“I figured you would.” He looks at me with a half smile.
“But you just said…”
“Yeah, I know,” he interrupts, cutting me off in mid-sentence. “Before… I wasn’t sure. I was sure this morning.”
“What changed your mind?”
He shrugs. “Seemed like the right time.”
Trying to get a straight answer out of him can be so frustrating sometimes.
“The right time? Why now?”
“Maybe it’s the atmosphere of this place,” he mutters looking out toward the railing and the palm trees.
If he was serious that would probably make my grin come back. But he’s not, so it doesn’t.
“Come on, Brian. You don’t let stuff like this penetrate you. So what’s the real reason?”
He turns back to me, his lips curl up a little because he knows I know him so well, but I don’t smile back. I really want to know so I’m not letting him off the hook with some witty, Brian Kinney idea of a romantic sentiment. He gets the idea.
His lips straighten back up and his eyes soften at me thoughtfully. He takes a deep breath and says, “You had to trust me or the fear would override the pleasure.” His eyes shift to his coffee cup then back to me. “I wanted it to feel good, not scare you.”
“I do trust you, Brian. But like you’ve said before, sometimes it’s the excitement of the unknown that’s the turn on.”
“I know.” His lips curl again and this time, mine curl in response. “And that’s why I thought it was the right time.”
“So then why was trust the issue?”
“There’s a difference between fear of the unknown and anticipation of the unknown. You trusting me removes the fear and just leaves the anticipation. That’s why you were so turned on.”
“So were you.” I grin.
“Mmm… you could say that.” His tongue moves to his cheek and the blush, the giddiness and the goofiness come rushing back and materialize on my face in that stupid grin.
“I do like that it was here, though.” I smile bigger because I know it was this place. Brian had actually been penetrated here… in more ways than one.
“You would.” He smirks at me so I nudge his leg with my foot under the table.
I pick up my half empty cup and hold it out to him. He retrieves the coffee pot and empties it into my cup then sets it down on the table. I sit back in my chair, pick up the dungeon brochure again and take a big gulp of the coffee with a slow slurping sound.
“How can you drink that shit that way?”
I look up. He’s looking at me with this disgusted look on his face. Obviously, too much sentiment has taken place for Brian in this conversation so he’s back in snarky mode. I think that’s why we’re good together; we can both take it and know it’s just what it is… it’s just us. I switch gears to play along.
“It’s the way it’s supposed to be drank. With all the cream and god knows how much sugar you put in yours, why bother adding any coffee. I bet you can’t even taste the coffee, can you?”
He stares at me expressionless then cocks an eyebrow. “It makes me sweet,” he says smugly then picks up his cup, takes a really big drink then smacks his lips.
“Hmm, well, the sugar may make you sweet, and you need all the help you can get in that department, we know for sure…” I pause for him to catch up. He sets his cup down, sits back in his chair with his hand dangling limp-wristed off his knee, tilts his head and waits for me to finish. “But…” I continue, “…the added cream just makes you have bad breath.” I wrinkle my nose. “It’s gross.”
“Gross, huh?” My mouth goes kind of crooked and I nod my head. “Well, I don’t recall it ever bothering you before.”
“Eh, it’s just one of the many things I have to put up with.” I give him a smirk and raise my eyebrows.
He stands up, leans over the table, takes my face in his hands, breathes open mouthed in my face, smacks me a kiss right on the lips then releases his hands and grins at me. I push his face away, coughing at his bad breath. “Ewww,” I tease and wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand.
“You little shit,” he scowls and grabs my face again. He kisses me again then licks all over my mouth and my nose and my cheeks, smearing his saliva everywhere. I’m giggling and trying to fight him off… pulling on his fingers with my hands and thrashing my head from one side to the other to get away. The table wobbles between us and makes a screech on the tile floor. He releases me suddenly and sits back down. “Don’t… wipe it off,” he warns, pointing his index finger at me like I’m a child.
I raise my eyebrows in defiance and move my hand to the side of my face. I hold it there, daring him to stop me. His finger waggles and he narrows his eyes into a pointy stare. That shit may work on Gus, but it won’t work on me. I stick my finger out and start wiping along my cheek. He grabs my wrist to make me stop so I start to use my other hand on the other side. He grabs that wrist too. I lean towards him and pucker my lips for a kiss in an act of surrender. He parts his lips just slightly… waiting for me to get there. When I reach his mouth we lock eyes and I kiss him lightly... our noses touching at the tips.
Then I grin big and by turning my head from side to side, I wipe my face off onto his, smearing his coffee-with three creams and five sugars-flavored saliva all over his cheeks. He releases my wrists abruptly and wipes himself off, growling and glaring at me. The game is on.
I bolt out of the chair, sore ass and all, and take off, around the corner and down the winding staircase. I don’t get much of a head start and he’s hot on my heels. “Fucking little shit,” he yells.
I take the steps two at a time, but he’s got longer legs so he’s doing it in threes and gaining ground fast.
