The pass

Service was over. The pass was clean steel. I stood there in the plain white coat, nothing written on it, auburn pixie wrecked. Matt came through the alley door with his knife roll still bagged from his own restaurant. He is my boyfriend. He does not work my line. He set the bag down and looked at my hands. Lead me, he said. I want your hands. Tell me what I am for until I come. I sent him to the sink first. Then I put him at the pass with his palms on the steel and his eyes on me.

I opened the coat enough to show the black tee and the heat at my throat, and I unbuckled him without a speech. His cock filled my fist. I fucked my hand along his cock and watched his arms lock so his hands would stay put. Good. Stay. When he rutted into the grip I held the base and stopped. Try again. He tried again. I wet my palm and went faster, talking in the voice I use when a board is loud, except the only ticket was him. You do not cum. You let me decide.

I kissed him with the coat hanging open and rubbed the head of his cock against my stomach. Then I went down on one knee on the mat and took his cock in my mouth, both hands on his hips so the depth was mine. He asked if he could touch my hair. I said one hand, light. He did it right. I brought him to the edge and pulled off. Not yet. I stood, pushed the tee up, and put his fingers on my cunt. Slow circles on my clit, the ones he already knows from me, while I held his cock in a firm lazy grip that would not let him finish.

I came on his hand with my forehead on his shoulder, cunt wet on his fingers. Then I stroked his cock in earnest, fast, my other hand on his jaw so he would look at me. Now. Cum. He came over my fingers and his stomach, gasping my name, knees gone soft. I had not let him fuck me. My hand fucked his cock through the last of it, and that was the order. I rinsed a towel in the hand sink and cleaned him myself. I buttoned his shirt halfway and left my coat open. He kissed my knuckles.