Anuradhapura “There were so many times tonight when all I wanted to do was grab you by your hair and push you down onto my cock.”
“There were about a dozen times when all I wanted to do was drop to my knees, unzip your pants, and suck on your cock.”
I was frustrated.
The Meet & Greet had been fun, interacting with new folks, learning names, and generating ideas for classes for the next day. There was some drinking. There was a little play. But there was an obvious detail CherryBondage and I had not thought of: getting back to the Flying Dutchman for the Grue in the morning.
It was decided we would travel back to CherryBondage’s home, retrieve what we needed, commute back, and crash at Hedwig’s. When we got back to CherryBondage’s place, I quickly realized it would be easier for me to just grab everything I had and bring it rather than parse out exactly what I needed.
But then CherryBondage and I missed the last train heading back into London.
Breathing heavy, having not been able to move as fast as her as I lugged my checked bag once more, I realized my over packing caused us to miss the train.
In a moment of desperation, and utter not-giving-a-fuck, I offered to pay for a cab. Twenty-four pounds seemed a mere pittance to the idea of 1- waking up her house should we have returned, 2- lugging my things back up to her room on the top floor, and 3- not spending the night in the bed I longed to sleep in with the man I longed to be next to.
I paid the fee. Forty minutes later we were at Hedwig’s and I was again carrying my checked bag up stairs, again all the way on the top floor.
We left my bootblack kit in the hallway. I dumped my other bag in a chair in his room. I stripped quickly, not caring if I looked sexy doing it, and climbed into bed with Gray.
And then he said that. And I said that. And it was all worth it.
We laid in bed, well what was called a bed. It was a fold out “bed” from an Ikea couch, nothing more than two cushions on the floor, but it was his bed for the duration. Surprisingly, it was more comfortable than I imagined it to be.
He was reading. I was writing. He laid on his back. I laid on my stomach.
The day had been wet. We’d spent much of it inside the Flying Dutchman at the Grue, but came back to Hedwig’s in the light rain.
We could hear people in the other bedrooms still awake, still happy, and still playing.
As I scribbled in my Moleskin, my right side brushing up against his body, he rested his right hand on my ass and gently massaged my rump. I smiled at the affection.
He liked my ass, and I liked that he liked my ass. He didn’t stop his gentle caress til he was ready to go to sleep.
“My mouth misses your cock when it’s not in it.”
“You say the nicest things.”
We’d planned on heading back to The Electric Elephant, a kind of goodbye to our spot in London. But when we started walking towards the cafe, we realized it was much farther than we remembered, and the bus we needed had a stop right in front of another small eatery, Ozzie’s Cafe.
We ventured inside. It was even smaller than The Electric Elephant. He ordered coffee; I ordered hot chocolate. He got a traditional English breakfast; I got a simple egg sandwich.
I blew over my hot drink and tried to wait patiently for the temperature to drop to where I could drink it. We sat in a booth.
He pulled out his journal and told me he’d be writing for a spell. Seeing the book come out, I knew we wouldn’t be chatting much for this meal. I pulled out my Moleskin, feeling inspired.
Sitting, eating, writing, and sipping on my hot chocolate, I made a mental note of that simple moment, that few breaths of us in another small London spot, sharing space together.
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