When we get to Dres's place, I half-think we're going to just jump right into it. I'm honestly kind of amazed we make it through the door with our clothes still on. I don't know about Dres, but the car banter has successfully turned me way on. But Dres says, "I've got to walk the dogs" as soon as we walk in. Delta and Charlie are already waiting for us at the door, barking and jumping excitedly.

     "You want me to come with?" I ask dropping my bag in the living room. I walk over to help him put on their harnesses.

     "No, it'll be a quick walk. Why don't you get their food together? It's a cup of dry mixed with wet in the two bowls. There's a can in the fridge."

     He takes the dogs outside, leaves the front door open when he goes, and I fill up the dog bowls with hard food. I open the fridge to get the wet food and find the can in the door, a few shelves above a bottle of pink Moscato, which I take out, too.

     I set it on the counter and snap a photo to Grace and Halston with the caption 'dres drinks cheap wine?' Grace responds 'a man of my own heart.'

     Dres has always struck me as someone who drinks scotch straight, so it's strange finding trademark sorority wine in his fridge. The bottle's already open, but it doesn't look like much has been drunk from it. After mixing the dog food, I hop up onto the counter and pull the cork out. Dres won't exactly love me drinking his wine, or any wine for that matter, but it's helping with the nervous feeling in my stomach.

     Dres gets back, but its Delta and Charlie who come barreling into the house first. They head straight for their food bowls. I listen to him close the front door, can even hear the lock switch. He's slow as he walks into the kitchen.

     "You're sitting on my counter," he says, tone disgruntled.

     "And I'm drinking your wine," I respond, cheekily as he comes to stand in front of me.

     "That's not my wine," he says, same tone, as he eyes the bottle in my hand.

     "Your fridge, your wine." I manage to get another sip in before he grabs the bottle, stepping into my space so that my knees are pressed against his chest.

     He drinks from the bottle, hesitantly, and then wrinkles his nose. "Oh, that's disgusting."

     "Well you bought it." I take the bottle back and have another sip. I like it. It's fruity.

     "It's not mine," he repeats, whining, maybe, a little.

     I grin, setting the bottle down beside me so I can grab onto Dres, instead. "It's fine you can drink cheap wine. I won't like you any less."

     He's ready to object but I don't give him a chance, leaning forward so I can plant a firm kiss to his lips. That's how it starts, with Dres between my legs on his counter and a bottle of wine that makes my chest all tingly and warm.

     There's a good chance we could finish there, too, on Dres's counter with the bottle of wine beside us, but he stops kissing me, lingering, lips parted, on my chin. When I open my eyes, his are open too, half-lidded, looking right at me.

     "We should go upstairs," he says slow enough that I feel the words form against my skin. I nod, letting him pull me down from the counter.

     When we get to the top of the stairs, Dres turns to me, hand on my rib cage with a pressure that holds me back. "Would it bother you if I shower, first?" he asks, earnest.

     I fight back a grin and shake my head. "As long as it doesn't bother you if I don't."

     "I'll be quick," he says and steps away from me, lifting his shirt over his head as he makes his way into the bathroom. I stare, openly, at the ripple of muscles. He is so perfect. Too perfect, maybe. Not even in the sense that he can do no wrong. I know he can and probably has. I would let him do wrong by me. I guess that says more about myself than it does about Dres.

     He's out of my line of sight and I hear the shower turn on. He left the bathroom door open and it's this temptation that I have to actively avoid, moving as I toe my shoes off and then crawl up the bed, collapsing into the pillows. I don't know if it's the wine or what but I feel fuzzy. It's a good feeling. It feels right.

     My eyelids are heavy so I let them close, just a little, just to give them a break as I struggle out of my shirt and toss it over the side of the bed. I lift my hips sluggishly as I work to slide my jeans off. I probably should've done this before I got into bed. But whatever. I get them off eventually and relax, staring up at the ceiling as I wait for Dres to return. Sex. Yep, we're having sex tonight. It's happening.

     I wake with a jolt, breathing heavy and fast. I blink into the darkness, making out the texture of Dres's ceiling in the pitch black of his room. Dres's arm is draped across my chest. It slides off as I bolt upright and he stirs beside me. He's lying on his stomach and has to lift himself onto his other elbow so he can lean on his side and look at me. "What's wrong?" he asks urgently. He's more alert than I would expect for having just been woken.

     I'm more confused than I would expect for having just had crazy, amazing sex with him. "Did we — what happened?" I strain my neck so I can look over Dres's shoulder at the digital clock on his nightstand. It's barely four in the morning. I don't feel like I've been thoroughly debased. It feels like there's been no debasement.

     "You fell asleep," Dres responds as he yawns, turning on his side completely. "Are you going back to sleep or is this going to be a thing?"

     "What do you mean I fell asleep? And you didn't wake me?" My tone is a bit more aghast than I was going for. I had aimed for noncommittal. Missed that mark.

     "Okay, so it's going to be a thing. Should I make coffee for it or will this be a quick thing?"

     "Why are you the funniest when it's four in the morning and completely at my expense?" I ask as I lie back down on my side so I'm facing him.

     "I'm the funniest always," he responds, softly. "You were tired all day. It's not a big deal. And that wine probably didn't help." He laughs as he reaches out and touches my chin, tipping my head up so I'm meeting his gaze.

     I hold his hand there. "I totally ruined it, huh."

     Dres makes a face. "Believe it or not, you can in fact have sex at any time."

     "Like right now?" I ask, bold because we're in the dark and he can't really see that I'm flushing. Dres doesn't answer fast enough, so I turn my head into his hand and kiss his palm. Then I bite it. He makes a quiet noise. I shift closer to him till there's very little space left between us, till I can tip my head upwards and kiss the underside of his jaw. Dres doesn't flinch, lets his head fall back instead, giving me full access to his neck.

     "So how much time do I have before you fall asleep, again?" he asks, flippantly. His Adam's apple vibrates under my tongue as he speaks.

     "Ha ha," I say before I move up his body and take his mouth in mine. He was waiting for me and responds with an intensity that directly negates how early in the morning it is. The hand on my chin slides up into my hair, fingers tightening around a handful of curls. Dres gives a tug and I groan into his mouth.

     I'm exactly how I remember leaving myself, wearing nothing but my briefs, but Dres is dressed. I reach under his shirt, bunching the fabric upwards as I trail my hands over his stomach. Dres is kissing me in the same way he always does, slow and heady, but it's different, deeper, somehow, like his kiss is touching a space inside me I didn't know existed until now. His tongue presses its way inside my mouth as he shifts a knee up between my legs. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm already hard. Have been since I woke up, I think.

     I break away to take Dres's shirt off, getting it to his armpits before it halts, caught between his shoulder and the bed. Dres sits up and pulls his shirt over his head in a way that is too provocative. I want to tell him to put the shirt back on and do a redo. It's a good sight. The way his shoulders ripple and try to meet his spine. I'd make a shrine of his back, if it wasn't already one with the large skull tattoo that spans most of the skin.

     Dres has tossed his shirt aside and is looking back at me, watching me watch him. I'm acutely aware of the fact I am tented in my briefs. I shift my leg over the other in a weird, modest attempt to cover myself. He reaches over and shoves my knee out of the way so my legs fall open and then he's between them in an instance, sliding down my body, taking my briefs with him. It's too fast and I want to hit the pause button. Maybe rewind, first. I want to be living in this moment and reliving this moment at the same time.

     I'm squirming, doing my best to keep my hips against the bed, as Dres licks the inside of my thigh, moving so gently it burns. He bites down on a thin patch of skin at the crease of my leg. I gasp, bucking my hips upward, and that's about all the warning I get before I'm deep in the sweet heat of his mouth. I clench at the bed, can't get a good grip though, and throw my arms across my face instead. I'm holding onto the seams of this moment and Dres is sucking the life out of me. I'm in the back of his throat and he's moaning, the sound vibrating through me. This is the kind of head that could kill someone. Kill me. 

     Against all better judgement, I move my arms and look down my chest at Dres. It's a bad idea. I regret it immediately. His lips are glossy red and split across the tip as he glides up my length. He lifts his eyes, meeting mine with the kind of warmth that sends me. "Fuck," I say and then, again, harsher and higher, as he takes me back in, deep into this blinding torment. If it continues, we won't need to continue. "Dres," I say and he's still going, drawing me in deep and fast, sucking hard enough to pull me across an ocean, into the abyss. "Dres," I repeat, again, more urgent as I reach for him. I can feel my orgasm in my knees, looming over me like the worst best thing ever. I'm doing everything I can to tamp it down, shove it to my feet, but the way Dres's tongue is swirling is like a beckoning call.

     He pulls off with the most satisfying and sloppy sound, and moves his hand to my dick, keeping me right there, teetering on the edge. His mouth is just inches from the tip, which is quite honestly an invitation to cum on Dres's face. And I want to. I have the most primal of urges to mark him. I clench my stomach like that's going to stop me. I'm holding my breath, too, have averted my gaze to the ceiling in an effort to postpone the inevitable.

     "You can get hard again," he says, simply, like this is just a fact. Like probably I can, but at what costs? It doesn't feel like I'm leaving this night fully intact. Dres is taking me apart, pocketing the pieces he thinks I can live without. And maybe I can, so long as those pieces are close, so long as I know they're with someone I trust.

     "So you're trying to kill me," I say, my voice squeaking as it passes through my mouth, which I'm also clenching. I think I've got a tight hold on every muscle in my body at this point, every muscle but one. That one is completely under Dres's control.

     "What happened to being insatiable?"

     I groan, rolling my head to the side so my words are muffled by the pillow there. "Oh man, why do I always regret the things I say? Why do you always remember them?"

     Dres is laughing as he engulfs the length of me, takes off like we never stopped, setting a rhythm that hurts. I make a sound that's supposed to be a warning but in the haze of all the goodness I'm enveloped in, I realize that sounds are not warnings. So I blurt with the most desperation, "Dres, wait, I'm gonna—." I reach for him but he swats my hand away and swallows me down like it's nothing. In the back of my mind, where coherent thought has been pushed, I wonder how many guys Dres has been with. How many it takes to be that good. I wonder how I'll ever be able to sleep with anyone else. I won't be, I know. He's ruined me.

     Dres slides up my body like a wave, kissing my chest, flicking a tongue across my nipple. My brain is having a hard time wrapping around the fact that wasn't the main event. That I haven't even gotten at Dres's dick. That it's remained untouched throughout this whole thing. I summon the energy for sex. It's not far, just beneath that post-orgasm fog. I reach for Dres. He's still wearing pants, which is stupid. I take great issue with it and the promise of sex has me bouncing back faster. So I turn towards him, watch as he reaches into the nightstand and returns with a bottle of lube and a condom.

     "Now we bang?" I ask, doing something suggestive with my eyebrows.

     Dres huffs a small laugh. His lips are still slick and rubbed raw. I want to kiss him. I sit up so I can. He says, "Not yet."

     "You're not the boss," I respond, climbing into his lap.

     "I'm quite literally your boss," he manages to say before I get my mouth on his. I antagonize him until he parts his lips and I can push my tongue inside.

     "Oh, I taste good," I mumble into the corner of his mouth. Dres moans, pushes back into my mouth so hard that I fall out of his lap. He follows, crawling over my body and tilting my head so he can kiss me deeply. I reach for his hips, tugging at the waist band of his pajama pants. Dres takes my hand and removes it as he leans back, till he's standing at the side of the bed. He shoves his pants down and he's hard and I want to get at it. Need to get at it.

     "Underwear, too," I find myself saying. I'm not really connected to the auditory portion of myself. I'm all eyes. Eyes that cannot take themselves off of Dres. Namely his dick. Which is perfect and peaking out through the slit in his briefs. And I need it, ok. It's necessary for my survival now.

     "Not yet," Dres says as he climbs back into bed. He forces me back so I'm lying down, but my knees are up and bent. He crawls between my legs. I'm not hard, yet, but I'm getting there. Dres grabs the bottle of lube and dispenses some on two fingers. He ducks down, kissing at my thighs again as he rubs one finger down past my balls, past that weird stretch of skin that's both sensitive and not. Till he's probing at the most sensitive part of me. I'm familiar with one finger, am familiar with three actually, and feel that jolt of excitement whenever I start exploring down there.

     "Mmmm," I hum as he slips just the point of his finger inside. I open easily, and jerk so that he slides in a bit more. "Keep going," I say, tone sort of urgent. It's getting urgent. I can feel my arousal stirring.

     "Slow," Dres responds as he inches the length of his one finger inside. He's planting kisses on my inner thigh as he does. It's a nice gesture but its doing nothing for me. I need more.

     "Can we just—just another finger. That's all I'm asking for. Please."

     I feel the rumble of Dres's quiet laughter against my thigh. Why this is funny, I do not know. I feel wrecked. I feel like I've been shaken alive for the first time. That I've been asleep my whole life. If we really only used ten percent of our brains, this is how you get to the other ninety. With an overstimulus that has every nerve in my body is firing.

     Dres slips a second finger inside. It's a stretch at first. One I know and am used to and enjoy. He works his fingers in slowly, curving them upwards, getting so close to where I need them and then. They're gone. I groan, furious. "Dres, if you don't get your dick in me," I find myself saying, aggressive for someone who just had an orgasm. I'm still not completely hard, yet, but almost. I can feel myself rousing, heat rising in my lower belly, coating my skin.

     "Not yet," Dres repeats and dips his fingers back in. The tease. I open my legs wider for him, lifting my hips. "Here," he says and his fingers are gone again. My eyes have rolled to the back of my head so I don't watch for what he's doing. I'm counting my breath, trying to control it while fighting the intense urge to kick Dres. "Lift your hips," he says and I do. He tucks a pillow under me, caressing my thigh as his fingers take a slow path back to their destination.

     "Three," I say and my voice is low, feeling like gravel in my throat.

     "Two," he responds, easing his fingers back in. I try to stretch my hand down towards him but I can't reach. "Not yet," he says and honestly, Dres sounds pretty wrecked, too. He sounds like the beginning of a car crash, when you're turning the wheel and trying to prevent it. He sounds like control right before you lose it.

     "You're killing me," I croak.

     "Good." He slips a third finger inside. Finally. My breath hitches, gets caught in my throat as he curls them upwards. All the while, he's sucking on my thigh. My brain's having a tough time wrapping itself around the fact this is still only a prelude to sex. I wanted to be thoroughly debauched and I certainly am.

     All too soon, Dres takes his fingers away. Whatever edge I was bought to, I'm off it now. I bite my lip to keep from crying. I'm waiting, waiting too long so I open my eyes and Dres is staring at me. His briefs are gone and it is so much more than I can handle, seeing him like that. An Adonis. Perfection. I know I shouldn't liken him to a god, he wouldn't like that either, but I don't know how else to put into words how perfect he is.

     "I'm going to kick you in the throat if you don't get in me already," I say, my voice so husky the threat just doesn't even land. Barely sits. Dres lifts an eyebrow, picks up the condom off of the bed, and makes a show of unwrapping it. I lift my foot and hit him with it. I mean business. Which is to say I mean to get down to it in this century, preferably. Dres grabs my foot and bites it. "Dres," I hiss, every nerve in my body ready to succumb to overexcitement.

    He slides his hands up my legs, cupping my calves and pulling me down towards him till his thighs are pressing against mine. The pillow is somewhere under the small of my back now, giving me a slight angle. I can feel the heat of Dres radiating between my legs. I'm so ready. I am, I really am. But I also want to pause this moment. Rewind and redo it. I'll never have this first again.

     He says, "Don't clench," as he kisses my shin. "Relax."

     I hadn't realized I was clenching. If I am it's because I'm trying to hold my last pieces together now that Dres has completely shattered me. I take a breath, focus on the sound of Dres moving, on the feel of him lining up against me. I look down just as he rolls his hips and the tip of him enters me. It's too much. I shouldn't have looked. Can't maintain any sort of eye contact with Dres, or his dick that is disappearing into me because it's all too much. I throw my arms over my face again. Yeah, that helps.

     Dres fucks into me slowly. The burn is agonizing and agonizingly good. It chokes me, holds me in limbo. He moves with the sort of tempered control he enacts everywhere in his life. It's a lot. I can't pretend that it isn't. This is certainly not three fingers. I breathe out against the stretch, against the pain and pleasure of it. He keeps his pace slow and steady, long strides that only emphasize every inch of his length. I get the sense that that's whatg he wants. When he sinks back into me, he holds himself there and then my arms are being shoved out of the way. He pins them to the bed so that I'm staring up into his eyes. They're wide, pupils blown, and boring into mine, an invasion that's more intimate than his dick in me.

    Dres is discovering new land in me, exploring places no one else has. I swear I'll remember every inch of him. That I'll never forget this exact feeling, no matter how many more feelings succeed it.

     I bite my lip before I say, quietly, "Yours."

     He kisses me roughly, pulling my bottom lip between his teeth so that it flames up and I know it's going to swell. "Mine," he says against my teeth. His pace quickens and now he's grinding into me with these short, hard movements. It's spot on. So intense that I want to pray to the feeling. Build a temple around it because its sacred.

     I'm making all kinds of soft sounds, sounds I don't recognize from myself, and my hips thrust to their own rhythm. Dres matches me, moan for moan and the combination is searing. My vision is blinded white.

     When I cum, there is no sound. I am suspended in time and space. I imagine I'll never feel like this again. That I'll never be able to put into words what this felt like. That it felt like something more than sex.

     When Dres cums, he drops his head into the crook of my neck. Makes this sound that is beautiful and musical. My chest aches with the thought that I did that. That I made him feel that. That he is here inside me.

     Dres has gone still against me, and I'm running my fingers down the back of his neck like I'm strumming a guitar. He makes this humming noise and it bristles against my skin. He shifts his head, nosing his way along my jaw till he's kissing me. Open mouthed and breathy. He pulls away just enough to ask quietly, "Good?"

     I grin and respond in my best Rihanna rendition, "Sex with Dres so amazing." Dres huffs against my cheek, but he's smiling, I can feel it. Which is good because I'm smiling, too. I don't think that I'll be able to stop in this lifetime. "I'm afraid if we stay like this any longer we may end up glued together." I wouldn't be strictly opposed to it, if I'm being honest.

     Dres reaches down between us and slides out of me gently. I'm notably vacant, can feel his absence. I clench against the hollow, testing this sort of new space I've now expanded to. "Don't move," Dres says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

     "You mean you don't want me to roll my cum into your expensive sheets?" He gives me a warning look, like he's not sure I won't. I say, "I can't move. All of my bones have gone soft."

     "Not all of your bones," he responds with a lift of his brows in the general direction of the area in question.

     "Absolutely insatiable, I tell ya'."

     Dres shakes his head as he gets out of bed and makes his way into the bathroom. It's still early, but the sun is starting to peak through the curtains. It doesn't bother me. I'm spent. Can feel myself falling asleep already. I may in fact be half asleep when Dres returns and climbs back into bed. I'm jolted by the warm towel he runs down my stomach.

     "Mmmmm," I hum. "That's nice. You're so nice."

     "Oh here we go," he says. I grin, but don't say anything. I wait till he's lying down beside me before I roll over into him, swinging a leg over his hips. "What is this?" he says, his tone light.

     "Shhh, sleep time," I respond, adjusting my head so it's half on his chest and half in his armpit. Yep, that is comfy. I'm about a blink away from passing out. "Just so we're clear," I find myself mumbling, almost incoherently.

     "Just so we're clear?" Dres repeats back to me, his tone faraway, too.

     "That time between Saturday nights and Sunday days is on the table, now, too."

     Dres says, "So what you're requesting is sleep overs. You want sleep overs on the table, now, too."

     I tilt my head up to look at him. His eyes are closed, but he's smiling. "Dres," I say and he opens his eyes just a fraction to look at me, both of us visible from the morning glow. "I'm demanding sleep overs."

     He laughs and it's the sound I fall back asleep to.