Sunlight.
I blink, turning to nestle an arm under the warm body lying next to mine. He appears to be fast asleep, near motionless under white covers. A slow rise and fall of his bare chest is the only clear indication that this is real, he is here, and I beside him. The familiar shrill calls of the rousing seagulls outside remind me where I am, and I feel a slow smile make its way onto my face.
I've always loved the ocean.
My right hand slowly makes its way beneath the loose band of his dark boxers, reaching into its familiar depths. I find what I am looking for, my callused fingers closing slowly around his rock-hard erection, a shape oddly familiar to my own. He gives a small start awake.
"Morning." I venture.
He looks at me and grins lopsidedly. "Your hand is around my dick."
I feign surprise. "Indeed it is."
"Well, you insatiable bastard-" he shifts to face me, "-what are you going to do about it?"
My silent answer is only the tightening of my grip, at which he gives a small groan in his throat and attempts to squirm away. I press even closer, my arousal all too evident against his naked back. I see him mouth my name against his muscled arm, as my gaze traces the firm square outline of his jaw, the stubble that grazes me as I press my nose against his skin and deeply inhale the warm musk that emanates.
The mere scent of him used to drive me near mad with lust, with nothing I could do but indulge in my own private fantasies. It had seemed so throughly surreal that we had ended up here. Past the underlying sexual tension that had existed before, past the awkward, often intimate physicalities of our old friendship.
I gently rub the underside of his cock's head with a finger, watching his eyes roll back in his head at the sensations. He was already wet and slick with anticipation, a surprisingly erotic fact that I had not known before. I very much enjoyed making him drip with sheer need.
"This. This is mine." I whisper fiercely in his ear as I rapidly increase the rhythm of my right hand. The fingers of my left are firmly tousled within his rumpled black hair, pulling his head back as I roughly jerk him off. He starts emitting little whimpering noises and grunts that make me painfully hard, and I watch his angular face as he gasps that he is coming, spasming and shuddering in my arms as his stomach tightens and I can see the outline of each abdominal muscle.
I feel, rather than see, the warm ropes of his cum as they wetly paint my enclosed fist. His fingers dig into my bicep, almost as a silent plea to stop. Then he is still, staring at the cracked ceiling and breathing heavily.
In one swift movement, he is suddenly straddled on top of me, his face curiously expressionless. His lean frame weighs down hard and seems all too insistent, demanding. He is still panting, but his eyes never leave mine as he solidly rubs his cum-drenched abs against my own. My balls are so tight I make an anguished sound and curse, trying to push him off me. But he is strong and broad-shouldered, and soon I can do nothing but make senseless noises of pleasure beneath him as he pins my hands to the side of my head. He leans in close to the side of my face, and all I see are his high cheekbones and the shadows they form with the sunlight from the window above us.
He said he likes to hold me down while I cum, so he can see me while I am at my most vulnerable. Or in his own words, "a violent orgasmer". This thought is my last coherent one, before the friction against his naked heat and moist hardness is too much. I explode, shooting thick gobs of jism between us as I make choked growls and try to fight him off me. He holds me tightly as shudders rack my body and subside. Finally, he slides off and rolls to my side.
"Shit, I don't think I've ever come that much before." I observe hoarsely, out of breath.
"Quite a load for me too." He agrees.
I close my eyes.