Silently I wait, alone in a darkened room, breathless with anticipation. The scene has been carefully set and his arrival is imminent. The summons was delivered hours ago, my instructions implicit. He will comply, I have no doubt.
I hear movement at the door and the mechanical sound of the keycard activating the locks. As the door opens, light from the hallway spills forth and casts his tall frame into magnificent silhouette. His eyes search the darkness, yet he doesn't speak. There is no need, for it is a game we have played on countless other occasions.
I hear the sound of keys as they are tossed on the nightstand by the massive four-poster bed. He sighs, moving silently to the window. In one swift motion the drapes are opened, permitting the lights of the city below to cast shadows on the walls. I know he can see me, yet he continues the charade.
He removes his baseball cap and tosses it into the chair in the corner. He runs his hands through his hair and I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable. He laughs softly at my discomfort, he knows what his actions have done to me. His fingers move to the frames of his wire-rimmed glasses and I speak. I must.
"Leave them on," I whisper. I can almost feel his eyebrows raise in question, but he indulges me.
I watch his hands as they grasp the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it off to toss haphazardly in the corner. My disappointment is intense when I discover he is also clad in a white tank top. He stretches, and I bite back a moan as the streetlight reflects off his firm, well-muscled arms. He reaches beneath his shirt, running his hands over his chest and revealing the slightest hint of skin at his waist.
My love plays the game very well.
I can feel his eyes upon me, watching me as he slowly pulls his tank top over his head, exposing his chest. The room is cool and his nipples pucker at the sudden drop in temperature. Funny, mine do the same, although the temperature seems to have risen inexplicably.
Slowly he runs his hands over his flesh. His fingers stop to pinch the erect buds, and as his head is tossed back in ecstasy, I feel an answering tug at my own breast. It is as if we are somehow connected.
His breathing is shallow as he touches himself, fully cognizant of my own sympathetic distress. I am on the verge of begging when he reaches for his belt buckle. God, he is so slow. He makes a production of loosening the buckle and then allows it to hang open as he pops the snap of his jeans. The zipper is lowered with a whisper and I am on the edge of my seat.
Cruel. He is so cruel. He stops and sits, carefully removing his shoes and socks and placing them neatly by the bed. I want to scream in frustration, but God, the anticipation is wonderful. Standing, he reaches a hand beneath his fly and cups himself as I watch the fabric move with the motion of his hand. He moans at his own touch and I am suddenly damp with longing.
He stands, his back to me, and drops his jeans to his feet. In a move designed purely for my pleasure he bends forward to pull the fabric away from his feet and his backside is presented to me, hidden only by the silk of his boxers.
I stop breathing as he hooks his thumbs in the elastic at his waist and pushes them slowly past his hips and to the floor. *Turn around* my mind screams in agony and he hears me, I know he does. In answer to my silent bidding he slowly turns and I gasp in admiration.
He is beautiful. God, so beautiful. In spite of what you think I might do, I lock my eyes to his and see the love within, the love that makes him share himself with me this way. I sigh and let my eyes travel lower. He has changed over the years. Once a boy, he is now a man with a man's body. I drink in the sight of his chest, rising quickly with his breathing and my eyes follow the soft trail of downy hair to his hips. He is painfully hard and his erection rises from within a thick patch of dark blonde curls.
I want nothing more than to drop to my knees before him, but I resist; the game is not yet complete. I wet my lips in anticipation as the light reflects off the silver droplets that have bubbled forth.
*Do it* I beg silently, and his hand is there. Slowly he takes himself in hand and squeezes firmly. His face is bathed with blessed relief and his eyes close in bliss. I watch in helpless fascination as his hand travels his length, stroking firmly. He stops to squeeze at the rim of the purple tip. He is swollen and even in the semi-darkness I can see him throb, and he is coated with his own moisture.
He thumbs the tip, spreading his slickness like a healing balm. Steadily he begins to stroke himself and I watch as his body tenses. His legs shake as he backs against the edge of the bed and sits, never once losing his rhythm. Even through the reflective glass over his eyes, I can see that they are clenched shut in concentration. He knows this is for me and he is trying desperately to maintain control. His willpower is almost gone when he reclines fully against the soft comforter, his head almost hanging off the opposite side.
It is all I can do not to touch my own body as I watch him pleasure himself. I remind myself that my reward is within reach and then I do moan aloud as his free hand reaches between his legs to cup and fondle the tight sac. Faster he moves, his hips straining toward the sky as his hand pushes his hard flesh closer and closer to release. Silently I move to his head, kneeling on the floor to watch the conclusion of my game.
My love's breathing is erratic, and it seems he sacrifices breath so as not to lose focus on his goal. His body is wet with sweat and he smells of sex and his own unique, musky scent. He is so close, and God forgive me, even without his touch, so am I. He whimpers in glorious agony and I touch my lips to his ear and whisper "now".
His hand and chest are suddenly bathed in his own creamy essence as his body expels his love over and over again and he trembles in the aftermath. Quietly I climb up beside him and rest my head on his shoulder. I know what the remainder of the night holds in store and I cannot wait. I also know that one day soon, my own summons will arrive and it will be my turn to play the game.