dinohouse | For Joe and Marvey.

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For Joe and Marvey.

I've been waiting to meet Joe Gibken. It's a strangely evocative name. Any mention of him has begun to provoke memories that weren't quite there before; soft skin, silky hair, full lips. Tragedy. Parting. Soldiers, boots, coming towards us. I have no idea how much of this is real (though none of it in this current existence of mine) and how much is fancy brought on by the idea of his being my fated love in every lifetime but this one.

Marvelous wouldn't hear of my meeting him alone, so we've arranged for it to be the three of us. I need to see Joe.

I need to know all about him.

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There can be few things closer to heaven than an unexpected blowjob from your gorgeous, much younger lover.

I don't like to push him, so I give him encouragement through vocal approval and a hand lazily reaching down to stroke his hair, as cautiously as I can manage given the circumstances. He knows what's coming to him, especially if he does a good job here.

I hum at the feel of his hand in my hair, and slide him further into my mouth. I hold his gaze with mine as long as I can stand before closing my eyes for a moment, enjoying myself probably just as much as he is as I slide him as deep into my mouth as I can, right to the back of my throat.

I swallow once around his head and then pull back, swirling my tongue. All of this is done slowly. There is a certain level of urgency and hurriedness in doing something like this in a public restroom, but I still like driving him crazy a little first.

"Hurry up." My voice comes out rougher than I intended it too, and that only adds to the urgency of the situation.

I so want him to take his time over me, and then to lay him down and return the pleasure a thousand times. But we're in a public bathroom.

I smirk around his dick, looking up at him with sly eyes shining through my bangs. I start to bob my head, taking him deep to the back of my throat, and then almost withdrawing. The rhythm steady and building, growing faster as I feel him respond to what I'm doing.

At this rate I won't last much longer. Maybe he'll be content to wait for me to get him home before I try to return the -

and that's when all coherent thought leaves me.

I hold tight to his hips with my hands, nails digging in as I cling. I pick up my pace, bobbing my head faster, swirling and rolling my tongue, growling at the back of my throat when the head of his dick slams against it.

I swallow, I suck, I graze my teeth gently down the length. I do all the things I've learned he loves most in rapid succession. I want to get him off fast, and get him off hard.

He's mine, and I'm keeping him.

It's taking all the strength in my lower body to hold myself up. I can't watch him gobbling me down, much as I want to; there just isn't room in here for me to fall.

And then I lose all notion of where I am, and I'm tumbling backwards against the hard tiles, reaching out vainly for Marvelous or something to steady me.

I garb for Sid's hips, holding him up and against the wall as I feel him start to cross the edge.

I take him down deep as he comes, swallowing around him. I move my head through his orgasm, letting him ride it out for a moment before sliding off.

I lick my lips and spit in the general direction of the toilet, then let out a happy sigh as I rest my head against his thigh.

I smirk, pleased with myself.

When I'm back to myself I pick him up in my arms to kiss him, with no regard for where his lips have been. Then I let him go for a moment or two so I can straighten my clothing, "I'm taking you home." I'd like to just pick him up and carry him over my shoulder but unfortunately he'll have to walk.

While he still can.

"All the way home?" I ask, still idly licking my lips after he's kissed the remnants of himself from me.

I stand back against the wall of the stall, rubbing at one of my hips with my hand.

"Don't know if I can make it that far." I bite my lip, giving him a heavy stare.

I actually laugh at that one. I can imagine him increasing the volume of his little moans as someone indignantly knocks on the door; or casually strolling out of the cubicle and staring down an array of disapproving faces.

If I'm honest, it turns me on. So I just press him up against the wall.

I gasp softly when he presses me back, arching against him, at least trying to. I'm so turned on I'm almost trembling.

"Sid," I grab at his hair, trying to drag his face down for a kiss. I want to bite and suck at his lips so hard they get all swollen and throb.

He's pulling at my hair and I'm nor quite sure what he wants. Maybe he wants me to make more noise, or it satisfies him to inflict a little pain. Either way I think it's sweet; so I lean across for another kiss.

I kiss him hard, lifting myself up, almost on tiptoes. I arch against him again, needy. Hard and needy.

I want him to get me off so hard my shouts can be heard in the main room.

I can't just climb on board, so to speak. I didn't ... bring anything, and although it's possible to do without, I have no intention of hurting him. So I do my best to strip him down, and nip at his ear, "how should we do this?"

I whimper, I groan. I arch against him, my jeans now hanging around my knees.

"Back pocket." I gasp, clinging to him. "Left one."

I always travel prepared. An old habit. But you never knew when you'll be fucked raw in some random place, and keeping protecting and slick on you is always a good idea.

I find it quickly, wrench off the cap and drop it - I'll pick it up later. I reach down, no problem there, I'm already hard again. I cover myself thoroughly in the lubricant and quickly pass the tube to him. I'm still not familiar with how much preparation he needs or how he likes it.

I don't really need a lot, my body is naturally accommodating, one of the few things that makes me curious about my actual heritage.

Whatever, not thinking about that right now, right now I just want Sid inside me. I want him to be raw and primal. He is the perfect lover, and I want him to know that there is no way I'm giving him up.

And if the rest of the place hears us, all the better.

"Hurry." I groan, just sort of dropping the tube. I can always get more later. I reach with one hand to join him in slicking himself up, twisting my hand in a way I know drives him crazy.

He knows me too well already. He knows where all my sensitive spots are, and he knows that if he moves his hand like that -

I'm slippery, glistening with the contents of the tube, and other things. So I simply push him against the wall and position myself into place. He's like a small wild animal. He'll be pushing and grabbing and moaning and jerking and I take in every little detail of his body as I push inside of him.

I move one of my hands to support his lower back so I can begin pressing impatient kisses to the side of his neck.

He moves me, moves with me, and I wrap my legs around his hips when he lifts me up, arching forward, offering myself to him.

He pushes inside me and I practically growl, throwing my arms around his shoulders and gripping tight. His dick is heavy inside me, pushing further, deeper...

I throw my head back and moan, as he hits my sweet spot. As he drives me wild.

"More."

It's not a request. I'm using all my strength to keep him up against the wall, still supporting his back with my hand. I used a lot of lubricant, so it's very slippery, and I'm moving against him as fast and vigorously as I can.

I do take the job of pleasing my captain seriously.

The back of my head hits the wall of the stall when I let out a strangled groan. I don't even feel it, all I can feel is him inside me, pressing deeper, fucking me harder.

I clench around him, I draw him in as deep as I can. I gather my legs more tightly around his hips.

I'm already close to coming, to shooting between us. I let go of him so I can reach up behind me with both my arms, grab at the top of the stall, clinging, holding myself up as he fucks me raw.

He's suddenly reaching up, hanging off the wall like a small monkey. And I smile, distracted though I otherwise am, because this is why I love him. He's so determined in this as in all other things.

His thighs are gripping me so tightly I'll have bruises. I don't care. There are not enough kisses in the universe for me to lavish upon his face and neck (though believe me, I'm trying) so I reward him instead by freeing a hand to take hold of him. I'm moving faster than ever, so the strokes are awkward and irregular.

If I ever had any inclination to be a quiet lover, it would have gone right out the window when he wraps his hand around me.

It doesn't take much by this point, just a few rough strokes and then I'm growling out his name between a string of curses. Somehow, even after all the time we've been together, each time feels more amazing than the last.

Hopefully it's the same for him.

I finish up not long afterwards, gathering him into my arms so he doesn't fall down from the wall. I'm content to stand there like that with him for several moments, propping him against the wall with my face buried against his neck, to which I press lazy kisses whenever I find the inclination.

Once the blood stops rushing in my head I reach for some toilet paper to begin cleaning him up. I often have to take care of this myself, and I get the feeling we don't have long left before someone comes knocking on the door demanding that we leave, "congratulations, I think the whole street heard you."

For Joe and Marvey.

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US bathroom stalls have space between the walls and the ceiling, forgive me if this isn't universal

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