The Zip at Her Spine

Lena heard the zip before she heard him speak.

It stuck at the middle of her back, the way this dress always did, and she was swearing at it in the bedroom mirror when Adrian knocked once and came in because she had told him not to hover in the hall like a guest. He was thirty-six. She was thirty-three. She had been on hormones for six years, had surgery on her face two years ago, and had kept her cock because she liked it and because the men she wanted usually liked it once they stopped performing nervousness.

Adrian was past that. He had fucked her twice already. He still looked at her tonight like the dress had personally inconvenienced him.

"Turn around," he said.

She turned. His knuckles brushed her spine. The zip climbed. His mouth followed it, open, from the small of her back to the nape, and Lena's cock stirred against the silk she had tucked it into.

"You're hard already," he said against her neck.

"You have hands. Of course I am."

He palmed her through the dress, slow, learning the shape again. Lena pushed into it. Adrian gathered the fabric and found her properly, wrapped his fist around her cock and stroked once, root to tip, thumb sliding over the head. She was wet there already. He smeared it and did it again.

"On the bed," he said. "Dress stays until I say."

She lay back on the quilt. He knelt between her knees, pushed the hem to her hips, and looked. Lace nowhere. Her cock flushed dark against her stomach, balls drawn tight, thighs bare. He spat in his palm and stroked her while he kissed the inside of her knee, then higher, then took one ball into his mouth and sucked. Lena's hips jerked. He pinned them with a forearm and kept going, tongue under her cock, then up the shaft, then the head in his mouth.

He sucked her like he meant to finish her and stopped when her thighs started to shake.

"Not yet," he said. His voice was wrecked. "I want you in me. And I want to fuck you after. Both. You said both."

"I said both if you stop teasing."

He laughed and stripped. Lena watched his cock come free, thick, already leaking. He got the lube from the drawer because he was not an idiot, slicked his fingers, and reached back to open himself while she stroked herself and watched. Two fingers. Then he swung a leg over her and sank down onto her cock in one long controlled drop.

Lena swore. He was hot and tight and the dress was still on, bunched at her waist, ridiculous and perfect. Adrian braced on her ribs and rode her. Each rise dragged her cock almost out. Each drop took her to the base. His own cock slapped her stomach. She wrapped a hand around it and stroked in time, and he fucked himself harder on her for the reward.

"Look at you," he said. "Pretty dress. Cock in me. Don't you dare come until I say."

"Then stop clenching."

He clenched on purpose. Lena grabbed his hips and thrust up into him, hard enough to punch a sound out of his chest. The headboard ticked the wall. Adrian dropped forward, kissed her filthy, and let her fuck up into him until his rhythm broke.

"Now," he said. "Come in me."

She did. It hit sharp, her cock pulsing inside him, and he ground down and took all of it, stroking himself through her orgasm until he spilled across the black dress in heavy stripes. He stayed seated while she softened, breathing against her mouth, then lifted off with a wet sound that made them both laugh.

He was not done. He rolled her onto her stomach, pushed the ruined dress higher, and spread her. His fingers, still slick, pressed at her hole. Lena pushed back.

"Yes," she said. "Fuck me. Don't make it polite."

He pushed in. The stretch burned and then gave, and he sank until his hips met her arse. Lena fisted the quilt. Adrian fucked her deep and steady, one hand under her to find her cock, which was filling again, oversensitive and greedy. He stroked her while he pounded her, kissing her shoulder, talking into her skin about how she felt, how he was going to come in her, how he wanted her dripping when she stood up.

She came again with him inside her, weaker and longer, cock jerking in his fist. He followed, buried, groaning her name, and stayed there until his arms shook.

After, he unzipped her the rest of the way and peeled the dress off like evidence. Lena lay on her back, flushed, used, smiling at the ceiling. Adrian fetched a cloth and cleaned her stomach, then kissed the head of her cock once, fond and obscene.

"Zip's broken," he said.

"Buy me another," she said. "You owe the dress."

She said it laughing, cock soft against her thigh, his come still leaking out of her when she shifted. Adrian went to the bathroom and came back with a warm cloth and a glass of water, practical in the way that made the hard part feel chosen. He cleaned between her legs without fuss, then cleaned his own stomach, and sat on the edge of the bed in his shorts like a man who had nowhere else he wanted to be.

Lena rolled onto her side and looked at him. The dress was a black heap on the chair. Her makeup had survived everything except the second orgasm. She felt used in the exact way she had asked for on the way up the stairs: not handled, not negotiated into softness, fucked in both directions until her thighs shook.

"You still get strange about it?" she asked. Not a test. She already knew the answer. She liked hearing it after, when his voice was ordinary again.

"About you having a cock? No." He put the glass in her hand. "About the zip, yes. That thing hates me."

She drank. He stretched out behind her, chest to her back, and his hand settled on her hip, then lower, lazy, cupping her spent cock like it belonged in his palm. She hardened a little out of spite and comfort. He stroked once, not to start again, just to feel her respond, and kissed the place under her ear where her pulse was still high.

"Next time," he said, "you fuck me against the mirror. I want to watch your face when you come in me. Dress optional. Cock not."

"Greedy."

"Accurate."

Lena closed her eyes. The flat was quiet. Her hole ached in a good way, and her cock twitched once more in his hand before it settled. She thought of the zip, the stuck tooth, his mouth on her spine, and smiled into the pillow. He owed her a dress. She was going to pick an expensive one.