#Coworker

The rain had turned the sidewalk into a slick black mess by the time we reached my building. My coat was soaked through at the shoulders and the hem of my dress stuck to the backs of my thighs. Marcus stood under the narrow overhang with me, water dripping off his hair onto his collar. He'd offered his jacket earlier and I'd said no, which felt stupid now. We'd been doing this half-thing for months. Looking too long across the open office. Lingering by the coffee machine. At the party he'd stayed close, one hand on the small of my back when someone pushed past, and I'd let it stay there longer than I needed to. "You good from here?" he asked. His voice was low, a little rough from the cheap beer. I nodded, keys already in my hand. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me." Neither of us moved. A car hissed past on the wet street. My apartment was on the second floor of a three-story walk-up, the kind with thin walls and a radiator that clanked. I could hear the rain hitting the metal awning above us. "You want to come up for a minute?" I said. It came out flatter than I meant. "Dry off. I can call you a car after." He looked at me for a second, then nodded. "Sure." The stairwell smelled like old carpet and someone else's cooking. My hands shook a little getting the key in the lock. Inside, the place felt smaller than usual. Couch, low table, kitchen counter with two dirty mugs still sitting out. I flicked on the lamp by the door and it threw a warm circle that didn't quite reach the corners. "You can hang that," I said, nodding at his jacket. He peeled it off. His shirt had gone translucent at the shoulders where the rain got through. I could see the shape of him underneath, the way the fabric clung. I went to the bathroom and grabbed two towels. When I came back he was standing near the window, looking out at the rain. I handed him one. Our fingers brushed. "Thanks." I pressed the other towel to my hair, squeezing water out. My dress was still damp and cold against my skin. I should have changed. Instead I just stood there. "Party was something," he said. "Yeah. Sarah got loud." He smiled a little. "She always does after three drinks." Silence again. The radiator kicked on with a metallic knock. I dropped the towel on the back of a chair and crossed my arms, then uncrossed them because it felt defensive. "You want water? Or I think there's beer." "Water's fine." I went to the kitchen, filled two glasses from the tap. When I turned he was closer than I expected, leaning against the counter edge. I handed him one. He took it but didn't drink right away. "You've been looking at me all night," he said. Not accusing. Just stating it. My face went hot. "So have you." "Yeah." He set the glass down. The small sound of it on the counter felt loud. I could smell the rain on him mixed with whatever cologne he wore, something clean that had gone soft after hours. My own pulse was up in my throat. I didn't step back when he reached out and touched the side of my neck, thumb brushing just under my jaw. His hand was warmer than I expected. I tilted my head a fraction into it without meaning to. "This okay?" he asked. I nodded. Then, because nodding felt thin, "Yeah." He kissed me like he wasn't sure I'd stay still for it. Soft at first, testing. I opened my mouth under his and the whole thing shifted. His other hand found my waist, fingers pressing into the damp fabric of my dress. I tasted the beer on him and something underneath that was just him. My own hands went to his chest, feeling the heat through the wet shirt. We moved without talking much. A few steps toward the couch. My calf hit the low table and something rattled. I laughed once, short and nervous, against his mouth. He smiled into the next kiss. Sitting down made it realer. The cushions sank under us. His thigh pressed along mine. I could feel how hard he already was when he shifted closer, the shape of it against my hip through his pants. It sent a quick pulse low in my stomach. I pulled back just enough to look at him. His hair was still damp, sticking up a little where he'd rubbed the towel through it. There was a faint red mark on his neck from the collar of his shirt. "You sure?" I asked. My voice sounded thinner than usual. "Yeah. You?" "Yeah." His hand slid up my side, slow, giving me time to stop it. When he cupped my breast through the dress I made a small sound I didn't plan on. The fabric was thin enough that he could feel the peak of my nipple. He brushed his thumb over it and my breath caught. I reached for the buttons of his shirt. My fingers weren't steady. One button stuck and I had to work at it. He waited, watching my face. When I got it open I pushed the wet cloth off his shoulders. His skin was warmer underneath. I put my palm flat on his chest and felt his heart going faster than the calm expression suggested. He found the zipper at the side of my dress and eased it down. The sound of it was quiet but final. Cool air touched my back. I lifted my hips so he could work the dress up and over. It caught for a second on my elbows and we both laughed, awkward, then it was off and I was in my bra and underwear on the couch while the rain kept hitting the window. He looked at me. Not polished. Just looking. My bra was plain black, a little stretched from wear. My stomach wasn't flat. There was a small bruise on my shin from walking into my own coffee table last week. None of it seemed to matter to him. He kissed the top of my breast, then lower, mouth open against the fabric. I arched without meaning to. When he tugged the cup down and closed his mouth over my nipple I made another of those unplanned sounds. His tongue was warm. One of his hands slid between my knees and I opened them without thinking. His fingers traced the edge of my underwear. I was already wet; I could feel it when he pressed lightly through the cotton. He rubbed slow circles there, not rushing. My hips shifted toward his hand. I felt ridiculous and also like I might come from just that if he kept it up. "Can I?" he started. "Yes," I said, too quick. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and I lifted again so he could pull them down. The air felt colder against the wetness between my legs. He touched me properly then, two fingers sliding through the slickness, finding the spot that made my thighs tense. I reached for his belt, clumsy with it, got it open and the zipper down. His cock pushed against the front of his underwear, hard and warm when I freed it. I wrapped my hand around him and he exhaled hard against my shoulder. We stayed like that for a minute, him working his fingers inside me in a slow rhythm, me stroking him, both of us breathing louder than the rain. When he added a third finger I made a noise that was half laugh, half something else. "Bed," I said. "Couch is too small." We stood. My legs felt unsteady. I left the clothes where they fell and walked the few steps to the bedroom, aware of him behind me. The bed was unmade from that morning. I didn't care. He followed me down onto the mattress. The sheets were cool. He settled between my legs and I felt the blunt head of him press against me. He paused, looking at my face. "Still good?" "Yes. Just slow at first." He pushed in carefully. The stretch made me suck in a breath. It had been a while. He waited, forehead against mine, until I nodded again. Then he moved, short strokes that went deeper each time. I hooked one leg around his hip. The angle shifted and suddenly he was hitting a place that made my whole lower body tighten. We found a rhythm that was a little uneven, a little too eager. The bedframe tapped the wall. I didn't care about the neighbors. His hand slid under my ass and tilted me up and the friction got sharper. I could hear how wet I was. It should have been embarrassing. It wasn't. I came first, sudden and harder than I expected, clenching around him while my fingers dug into his shoulders. He kept moving through it, slower, watching me. When I opened my eyes again his face was tight with concentration. "I'm close," he said. "Okay. Inside is fine." He thrust a few more times, deeper, then buried himself and came with a low sound against my neck. I felt the pulse of it. We stayed like that, breathing hard, the rain still going outside. After a minute he eased out and rolled to the side. The air felt cooler on the wetness between my legs. I stared at the ceiling for a second, then turned my head toward him. His hair was a mess. There was a small smear of my lipstick near the corner of his mouth from earlier. "You want that water now?" I asked. He laughed once, quiet. "Yeah. In a second." Neither of us moved right away. The radiator clanked again. Outside the rain kept coming down like it had no intention of stopping.