It may not have been the smartest of ideas, but Justin had to confess he'd done some dumb things in his life. He'd installed a special feature in the alarm system of her apartment that gave him a notification whenever it was opened. There was no camera to say who opened it, but if she was gone for long amounts of time, he'd worry. It wasn't until he knew she'd gotten back to her place (although he paid for it, it was still hers) that any tension he'd been feeling about what she may have been away for too long. He wasn't sure if she had come across it, though he'd hidden it extremely well. If she had and said nothing about it, he would feel that it was still a win. He'd put something in there, she'd found it, she'd realized what it was, and she hadn't disabled it. If that was the case, he assumed she either felt obligated to keep it in or, perhaps...found it endearing.
She didn't want him to speak, so he wouldn't. But, God, when his eyes opened just slightly, when he saw her tongue flicking out, that was enough. More than enough, really, because he hadn't realized his orgasm had overtaken him until he felt it splatter against his shirt, giving it more weight than it had before. There was something oddly enticing about her lips, and it wasn't just because she was a beautiful woman and the things a beautiful woman could do with practiced lips were the stuff of wet dreams. It was Natasha herself. Everything about her was enticing, from her body to the way she spoke, to the fact of the matter that he knew that, in regards to her, he knew what she would let him and nothing more. Perhaps, one day down the road, she'd tell him more. But he had no intentions of pressing. If she never volunteered much more information than he already had, that was perfectly fine.
"Christ."
It's all he had time for as he looks down to see himself a mess, to see her hand on his cock, to be thankful that he'd worn his glasses as opposed to taking them off before attending to himself. That hand in her hair moved to the back of her neck, his hand going to her waist. He had every intention of pulling her into his lap and kissing her like he should have done before, all desire and passion and want. Fiercely, but not with the bumbling behind it of an overly eager teenager or young adult who was just so excited to have some form of sex when he lacked finesse in every way.
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She didn't want him to speak, so he wouldn't. But, God, when his eyes opened just slightly, when he saw her tongue flicking out, that was enough. More than enough, really, because he hadn't realized his orgasm had overtaken him until he felt it splatter against his shirt, giving it more weight than it had before. There was something oddly enticing about her lips, and it wasn't just because she was a beautiful woman and the things a beautiful woman could do with practiced lips were the stuff of wet dreams. It was Natasha herself. Everything about her was enticing, from her body to the way she spoke, to the fact of the matter that he knew that, in regards to her, he knew what she would let him and nothing more. Perhaps, one day down the road, she'd tell him more. But he had no intentions of pressing. If she never volunteered much more information than he already had, that was perfectly fine.
"Christ."
It's all he had time for as he looks down to see himself a mess, to see her hand on his cock, to be thankful that he'd worn his glasses as opposed to taking them off before attending to himself. That hand in her hair moved to the back of her neck, his hand going to her waist. He had every intention of pulling her into his lap and kissing her like he should have done before, all desire and passion and want. Fiercely, but not with the bumbling behind it of an overly eager teenager or young adult who was just so excited to have some form of sex when he lacked finesse in every way.