When Your Crush Has To Stay - An Erotic Story

When her brother’s friend gets stuck helping her move into her new apartment during a snowstorm, Jess is reminded of one orgasmic way to make sure she gets the work-life balance right from home. Snuggle down for this her and him sex story…

A Snow Day Like No Other

The snow started after Struan finished lifting the last box up to Jess’s new studio flat. By the time he’d helped her put the bed back together the world outside was white. Jess looked at her phone app.

“You’re going to have to stay,” she told Struan. The roads looked treacherous from the window, the snow was falling thickly. She showed him her phone, the main road was ominously red on the app and the weather had an orange weather warning. Struan nodded and grinned suddenly up at her, she looked away quickly, careful not to let the little spark inside her bloom into the full blown crush she’d had on him years ago when he was just her brother’s cooler, more worldly friend.

“What in the one bed? Really darling?” His eyebrows were raised at her. “I’m going to wear pajamas,” she said, “and I’m sure I’ve got some yoga pants that would fit you.”

They didn’t do anything, they just ate tinned soup that Jess was glad she’d packed and not left behind in the old flat, then got into the bed protected by the fabric layers between them. Almost not touching, they fell asleep.

When Jess’s alarm forced her awake she found they were huddled close, legs tangled together. It felt so natural. It took an age, and another snooze to get her to the point where she could pull herself out of his arms. “No, stay, cold” Struan moaned as Jess got out of the bed.

“I’ve still got to work,” Jess told him, pulling on a jumper over her pajamas.

“You’ve hidden the avocados,” Struan claimed, with a tiny huff. “Well they’re not appropriate for meetings,” Jess said.

“Just don’t switch your camera on,” Struan said, as he rolled over and snuggled under her duvet.

Jess got herself a tea and looked at all the boxes that needed unpacking, trying to ignore them she turned to the window; it was still snowing, maybe even more heavily than last night. Jess gritted her teeth, before all this home working she should have got a snow day. She would have climbed back under the warm duvet with Struan and seen if they were going to tip over from friends into something more. But now her meetings won't be cancelled. The emails would fly in. And her boxes would sit there, staring at her.

Half an hour later she found Struan tiptoeing behind her, she didn’t look until the meeting finished, with endless chatter about the snow. Somehow he had managed to find the things to make filter coffee and toast. Indeed when she looked he had unpacked a box and half already and put stuff away.

“I thought I’d help,” he said, “Ash texted and said she’d couldn’t open the bar, as the power’s out cos of the fucking snow.”

“Oh, is she ok?” Jess asked. “Yeah,” Struan shook his head, “tough as boiled leather, my sister.”

He continued unpacking for her, whilst she carried on with work, he shifted the furniture finding the best use of the space whilst she was typing up a grant proposal. He hung all her clothes in the fitted wardrobe whilst she was in another meeting. When he took her to look she found he’d organised them by colour and somehow her own clothes looked like an elegant pop-up store.

“You don’t think about painting again?” She asked, “or something like it?” Struan shook his head. He held out his hands at her, “they still hurt, sometimes,” he said, “and anyway anything I did would be self indulgent twaddle and an agent would make me sell my journey if I wanted to make any money.”

Jess bit her lip, she supposed he was probably right, he, or his story, would end up overshadowing his art. “I know,” she said, “it’s just look at this?” Marvelling at the beauty he’d captured.

He shrugged, “none of it’s as nice as your avocados.”

“My avocados?” She said, “I didn’t necessarily mean to come out like that,” Struan said with a laugh.

Jess was aware he’d switched the tone of the conversation, she looked at him trying to fit together the puzzle of his lithe strength against his fragility, his flirtatious provocativeness against his haunted beauty. He must have read something in her look for he said, “I am ok, maybe not always, but right now I’m ok, most of the time, I’m ok.”

“I know,” she said as she took him in her arms. “I’m finished with work, I'm going to have a shower.” She said pulling away, suddenly aware of how ungroomed she appeared, just wearing her pajamas all day.

“What about the avocados?” Struan asked.

“Well I’m probably going to put on some other pyjamas,” Jess offered sheepishly, “I have some lemons, if I can hunt them out.”

“I’m not personally convinced that lemons are as sexy as avocados,” Struan claimed, “but I am open minded, I suppose.”

“Sexy?” She said. There was a smirk playing on his lips, maybe it was the mirror of the one on hers.

—

He’d dressed the sofa with her new cushions and the old quilt from her grandma’s house when she came back in.

“They’re not even proper pyjamas,” he said, “your legs are going to get cold.”

The bottoms were pink cotton shorts covered in smiling lemons. Jess pushed him onto the sofa, he fell back easily, tipped his head to her expectantly, daringly, so she climbed astride him and kissed him.

She pushed her tits against him, felt friction of the fabric pulling against her nipples. “Do you have a thing for pajamas?” She asked him.

Struan shrugged and smiled before he said, “are we doing this?”

“We’ve been dancing around it for weeks, for months, for years.” Jess replied, and it was true, she thought, years ago she would have thought it was just a silly crush on her part, but right now she thought maybe the little fizz between them had been building to this.

He nodded as he grinned at her, tried to tip her sideways. “What are you doing?” Jess asked, resisting him, merely to prolong the feel of his fingers on her waist.

“Trying to get you to lie back.”

“Ok” she said and lay back on the sofa.

Struan crawled over her and began to kiss the lemon at her shoulder, she pushed her crotch against him, trying to catch her clit on his cock but he kept moving, working his way across the pajamas to each lemon; each kiss a little tender press into her skin, her flesh.

She put one hand in his hair as if she could capture him, but still he kept moving, kept kissing, kept pressing. Jess didn’t moan, she bit her lip instead, enjoyed her own bruising pressure, her self-control. Struan reached her shorts, Jess had given up on his hair, she rubbed the heel of one hand against her aching desperate breast, bit the thumb on her other hand, to keep from moaning. She still hummed a little. She still shifted her hips, clenched her vagina, searched vainly for friction.

When he moved further down, she extricated one leg so she could twist her crotch against him, rub herself against his shoulder. It was kind of awkward but Struan responded by rolling his shoulder against her keen mound as he kissed the lemons on the hem of her shorts, letting the wet of his lip scuff her thigh half the time.

“I guess shorts have their advantages,” he said and he nosed them aside to kiss her very inner thigh, let his tongue just touch her clit then pulled it away.

“Please,” she said.

“Please what?” Struan asked, and he grinned up at her. Jess shifted again but there was nothing to rub against now.

“Touch me or lick me or something,” she answered.

“Where?” Struan asked, all apparent innocence.

“My clit, inside, anywhere” she demanded. He put a finger into her and crooked it and did nothing more, so she rocked against it, he was still looking up at her, she glared at him. He crawled back up to her. Jess thrust against his hand still.

“Does it feel good?” Struan asked her, he was pressing into her, her tits were squeezed against his chest, his hard cock pressed into her thigh, “It’s just one finger, it’s not a big show-off cock, it’s just a finger.”

Jess kissed him to shut him up, held his lips with her own, thrust her tongue into his mouth as if she could knot him into silence.

She pulled one hand into his hair and one into his shoulder blade to keep him against her and rocked and rocked against his finger. Still she rocked and rocked. She wasn’t sure whether the talking spun her further into the desperate ache in her groin that would surely make her come. She wasn’t sure whether to concentrate or let go.

“I,” she began, but then he pushed another finger into her, she could hear her own wetness, feel it sticky, damp and hot on her shorts. He let his thumb catch her clit, she wasn’t able to finish the sentence. Struan was laughing and he was catching inside her and he was kissing her face, everything was heightened, she might have been moaning now, or gasping or begging without words, who knew?

—

Struan was kissing her neck now, with the same insistence. He was still catching inside her, steady and patient. Jess was still rocking, insistent and wild. Then he was kissing her sternum, his tongue hot, the fabric of her pajamas dampened by it.

He was kissing the top of her breast and she was shifting as if she could get her nipple into his mouth. Her nipple which yearned, like her clit, like her core, like her skin. She wanted her nipple in his mouth. Maybe she was only waiting a second but it felt like an age, then he did kiss the nipple, soak the fabric.

She stopped concentrating, she was only tingling skin, she was only her damp yearning nipples, her tender smarting clit, her avid grasping vagina, she was only her greedy, twisting fingers which held him to her.

He was kissing her rib when she came. He was kissing her skin, her actual skin. She came shaking against his hand, cloth stopping her mouth, because somehow, in the last few moments she had pulled the pajama top into it to stop herself screaming; as if she wanted to keep the orgasm down within her body, she thought afterwards. But at that moment, she wasn’t thinking she was just shaking and biting the fabric. She thought he would stop. He didn’t stop. He kept kissing her; her hip, the waist of her shorts. He kept catching inside her. He kept pressing, steady and gentle, on her clit.

Then her phone rang. She was being twisted up again into yearning, into tingling, into smarting. The phone kept ringing. It stopped. It rang again. She realised she was still biting the pyjama top, so she let it fall from her mouth.

“Struan,” she whispered sharply, as if they really had an audience, the ridiculousness of it hit her all at once and she started laughing. She was laughing, he was kissing, he was pressing her clit still, the phone was ringing. The phone was ringing again.

Her second orgasm was a kind of manic shudder as if she were made of cotton candy and glitter.

She was exhausted after it and the phone was still ringing. “Stop!” She said much too loudly.

Struan sat up, “shall I get that?” he said, gesturing towards the phone. Jess sat up and looked at the phone, it was Grace from work, she looked at Struan before she picked up, he was still hard, he was idly licking the fingers he’d had inside her.

“Grace, I’m so sorry.” Jess said as she answered. “Yes sorry, the grant is all done, I just forgot to send it,” she was speaking too quickly. “I’ll send it now and we can talk about it if you need,” Jess offered rather breathlessly.

Struann raised his eyebrows at her, flicked his eyes to his cock, she shook her head at him.

“I’m going to go,” he mouthed back as she was emailing the document.

“You could stay,” she mouthed back, pointing at the sofa.

“You’re working again,” he said out loud as he shook his head and got up. It was true, she’d already worked more than her given hours.

“Grace, can I call you back in half an hour?” Jess said, Struan was gesturing to her with widening hands that it should be longer, and shaking his head, one eyebrow raised, his smile skew and mischievous.

“I’m actually done for today, I’m sorry again about the grant, I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Bye.” Jess said, hanging up.

“What do you want me to do?” Struan asked, his eyes were all knowing and provocative, he didn’t even bother to grin, like he could just smirk on the inside.

“What do you want to do?” She asked But he was just standing there, his mouth twitching into another grin.

“You’re wasting time,” she claimed. She rose and kissed him, bits of the damp pyjamas were chill against her skin, so she pressed close to steal his warmth. She pushed her own fingers into herself just briefly, she was still sticky and damp, though cooler than earlier. Then she pushed her hand into his pyjama bottoms, used her own slick to scuff the tender skin at the tip. He shifted against her. She kept kissing him, she pressed herself against his thigh and pulled her hand up and down his cock as patiently and firmly steady as he had been with her.

He wasn’t really kissing her anymore, he was just breathing into her mouth. So she tracked her tongue down his chin, over his Adam’s apple, into the dip at his collarbone and over the grey mini-mouse t-shirt of hers he was wearing. She took his nipple in her mouth through the fabric. She wanted him to come stickily into the yoga pants, and at the same time she didn’t want him to come, she was desperate to climb onto his cock and feel it inside her.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Jess asked him.

“Huh?” Struan replied, as if he hadn’t heard her, he was biting his lip, his eyes were dark, Jess knew it was all her, her and silly cute pyjamas, that had taken him to this place.

“Would you like to put this -” Jess said, she drew her fingers up his cock until Struan shifted, “-into me?”

Struan nodded, he half laughed but bit his lip again before asking, “do you have condoms?”

“Well somewhere,” she said.

“I’ve got one in my wallet I think,” he looked around.

“Smooth,” she said with a laugh, but he was already at the bedside table retrieving it smugly. He brought it to her, she rolled it on, slowly, watching the way he closed his eyes, the way he gasped, just a little.

He then pulled off her pyjama shorts, and let them fall easily to the floor. She flicked her left foot out ungracefully as she tugged his pajamas down too and pulled him back down to the sofa. The tip of his cock caught into her as they fell back, but then it pulled away again. She had no idea if he’d done it on purpose or if it was just their awkward positioning. Then the absence of him disappeared from her mind as he was pushing into her and she had to tilt her hips and push against him.

Neither of them were steady anymore. They were kissing, they were rocking against each other. The cushions pressed against her back. Struan’s hips pressed into her thighs, it was tender like a pressed bruise, Jess pressed her heels into the base of his back. Each kiss felt like a twist between them. Struan smelt of her, and still he smelt of eucalyptus and spice somehow too.

She pressed her fingers into the landscape of his back. Everything was pulling him to her. They were both wild and insistent now. At some point he slowed and came inside her and lay against her, holding her. The warmth reminded her of the way they had woken in her bed, she might have got lost in it, but she steeled herself.

After a minute she managed to ask, “you know condoms don’t work if we stay like this?” “Yeah I know,” he sighed, and somehow he managed to haul her up with him, before he pulled out, took off the condom carefully.

She handed him the lemon shorts. “It feels wrong to wipe come all over the lemons,” he said.

“I think they were already ready for a wash” Jess claimed.

“The lemons did seem to enjoy the whole thing, they’ve persuaded me they are sexier than avocados.” Struan said with a grin that lit his face up mischievously, Jess resisted the urge to just kiss the grin off his face.

“Lucky lemons, to have your approval.” Jess declared instead.

The snow had finally stopped, the moon was out, full and luminous, the world looked like a picture book, the perfect wintery scene. “Let’s go out in the snow,” Jess said to Struan.

“Really darling?” Struan said with that grin of his, “but it’ll be cold.”

THE END. WRITTEN & SUBMITTED BY ST.CLEMENTS - A MEMBER OF OUR COMMUNITY.

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