THE DESSERT
“You are so rude, aren’t you?” he tries to hide it but I know he is excited as fuck because of what I just said.
“I’m not rude,” I shake my head, “It would be a nice way to end the date, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe,” he frowns, “But…” he tries to say something but I can see he is struggling to find the words. I bet he is picturing myself naked already.
“You are so thirsty, bum,” I tease him, “We both want to do it, there’s no shame in that.”
“You suck, bubu.”
“Em, no?” I laugh, “You will suck,” I bite my lower lip, “A lot,” I add.
“Shut up,” he coughs nervously, “You are running it.”
“No, I’m not,” I keep going, “Look at how blushed you are. You want it.”
“Shut up already!”
“And I want it too, tourist,” I tease again, “I’d take you right here if I could.”
“You are so drunk and you need to shut up,” he laughs.
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yes, you are,” he looks accusing, “And it’s funny because you should be good at drinking. I mean, you drink a lot but still, look at you.”
“I’m perfectly fine, I don’t know what you are talking about,” we both stay in silence while I pay for the dinner. He tries to take his wallet out but I don’t let him pay for anything.
“Thank you,” he smiles, “I owe you a meal.”
“No, you don’t,” I smile back, “Oh, wait. Maybe you do,” I enjoy the look on his face, “I can think of a few things you could do to pay me back.”
“I’m not a manwhore, if that’s what you are implying,” he tries to play offended but he knows I’m kidding.
“Let’s see about that later,” I keep my eyes focused on him and I can tell I making him feel stuff. I like that.
“You are not going to take me to the hotel right now,” he says as we leave the restaurant, “It’s too soon for this date to end.”
“I know,” I open the exit door for him.
“Such a gentleman, bubu.”
“I was kidding before,” I excuse myself, “I have other stuff planned for tonight.”
“Do you?”
“I do,” I grab his hand as we walk to our next destination, “It’s not that the thing I mentioned before is not going to happen because, just so you know, it is going to happen,” I wink at him, “But we are going somewhere else before I give you the honor to,” I lower my voice because there’s too much people around us, “Take a ride on this Ferrari.”
“You are so full of rubbish, you douche,” he laughs, “Where are we going now?”
“There’s this bar a few blocks away from here. They are supposed to have the best drunken desserts in town,” I sound excited.
“Drunken desserts?”
“Yeah, you know. Like Margarita Cakes and Tequila Muffins, all that kind of shit,” I turn to look at him, “Do you wanna go?”
“Sure, let’s go,” we walk in silence for a while, “We need to work on your manners though. Tequila Muffins and all that kind of shit,” he mocks me.
“I’m not good with spoken words,” I say, “I’m way better at texting.”
“I hope so,” he replies and I feel kind of bad because he is right. I wish I were better at this kind of stuff, like dating and being all romantic and crap.
“Let’s hurry up because we are already late for the reservation I made,” I tell him.
“Aw,” he is addicted to that expression, “You planned this so well, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t,” I answer sheepishly. I don’t want him to think that I’m excited about dating him or something.
“This is all so romantic,” he adds.
“Shut up, this is not romantic,” I cut him off, “We are just two lads hanging out.”
“We are holding hands,” he reminds me, “We are two lads holding hands.”
“Just lads being lads,” I try to hold my laugh, “Thank you for saying this is romantic though,” I mumble, “I did put a lot of effort on planning this,” I admit in shame.
“I can’t hold it any longer,” he pulls me from my hand to a dark corner. He looks around to see if someone is watching and then he looks back at me, “Hello there.”
“Hi,” I say with a frown on my face, “What are you doing?”
Before I can say anything else, he attacks my mouth with his. Go, tourist.
The rush that the possibility of getting caught gives me makes the whole thing feel even better. I’m pressed against a wall and he is suddenly so strong and in control, it’s making me feel weird. I try to gain force but he wont let me and I’m starting to feel frustrated.
“I own you,” he smirks against my mouth, holding his strong grip on my hands, not letting me do anything.
“Let me go,” I beg. He is keeping my hands on my back and I want them free so I can touch his you know.
“Nope,” he doesn’t move, “I know exactly what you wanna do and you haven’t earned it yet.”
“You are mean,” I smile because I love having him so close to me. His mouth is literally an inch away from mine and breathing into his breaths is better than any kind of porn. And believe me, I have watched a lot of porn in my short life.
“Now let’s go,” he pulls me to the light again, “We are late.”
“Screw the reservation,” I stay right there, trying to make him stop, “Let’s go to the hotel.”
“Nope, we are not going to go to the hotel just yet,” he seems determined.
“Why not?” I pout.
“Because I want dessert,” I love him when he acts stubborn but he doesn’t know I can be better at that. Hey, I did not say I love him. Not in that way, at least. I just meant that I find him amusing when he acts like a little shit.
“I already told you, I’ll be dessert,” I get closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face on his neck. I take a deep breath of his scent and it sends me somewhere else again, “We can come to the bar later. I’m sure they open until late.”
“Once we enter the room, we are not leaving for hours,” he teasingly rubs his lips against mine, “Bar first, hotel later.”
“Stop teasing,” I groan, “I want you now.”
“I want you too,” he answers and I pull him to the dark side again, “Hey.”
“It’s my turn,” I kiss his left cheek, “Hotel now,” I kiss his right cheek, “Bar later,” I kiss his neck and I leave my mouth there for a little longer.
“Nope,” he kisses my chin, “Dessert now,” he nibbles my cheek, right where my left dimple is.
“Hey, that hurt,” I complain.
“Sorry,” he kisses the same spot.
“You are forgiven,” I say and, in the blink of an eye, my hand is exactly where I needed it to be since I met him.
“Hey, leave my bum alone,” he laughs.
“Make me,” I tease him, “Come on, try,” I squeeze harder.
“I’m worried about this, bubu,” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and starts playing with the hair on the back of my neck.
“What are you worried about?” I look straight into his eyes.
“You seem to be way too interested in my butt,” he turns serious, “And I think there’s something you should know before we continue this.”
“What is it?” I frown.
“Well,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m a top.”
“What?” I yell, my mouth dropping as open as possible.
The bitch just totally killed my vibe.
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