Hold still

Evening light sat on the floorboards. I knelt on the mat in the rust set with a glass of water beside my knee. Ryan knelt opposite me, naked, hands on his thighs, already hard because I had told him to stroke his cock once in the hallway and then stop. He is my partner. The studio was empty and the door was locked. He looked at the glass, then at my mouth. Hold still, I said. That was the whole evening he had asked for. He said he wanted it.

I wet my palm and worked his cock slowly. What I wanted was quiet hips and open eyes. When he jerked, I stopped. When he settled, I started. I edged him until his arms trembled and his voice went thin. Not yet. He nodded. I drank from the glass without looking away, then offered him a sip. He drank. I set the glass down and guided him onto his back. Hold the mat. Do not grab me. He held the mat. I took his cock in my mouth and brought him right up to the brink, then lifted off and waited until the shake faded.

Again, I said, and I did it again, hand at the base, mouth soft, the control sitting with me because he had handed it over on purpose. He asked if he could cum. I said no, not unkind, and I watched him take the no as a gift. I pulled the rust top off, kept the bottoms, and rubbed my cunt along his cock without letting him fuck my cunt. He groaned. Still, I said. He went still. I came like that, grinding my clit on him, using the warm shape of his cock, telling him how good the stillness was while the evening light went thin.

Only after I had my breath did I take his cock in my cunt, deep and unmoving. Hold still means you do not thrust. I will move. He obeyed. I fucked him in long strokes and stopped whenever he got too close. Then I said he could cum if he kept his hands on the mat. He did. I felt his cock pulse in my cunt and I stayed down through it, kissing his jaw. After, I made him finish the water. I wiped his chest with a towel and told him he could touch me anywhere. He held me.