Page 8 of Doink (Rainbow Dorset University)

DANA

I sleep for what feels like a long time, though not uninterrupted. I don’t think Peyton is comfortable. He moves around a lot. Every time he moves, I wake up. Not fully. As soon as he settles again, I fall right back asleep.

My dreams mix with reality. I can still taste his cum in my mouth. I’ve had dreams where I wake and believe I do as well. They felt so real.

But they weren’t. I’d wake alone in my room with nothing but morning breath on my tongue.

This is different. The lingering tones in my mouth are Peyton’s orgasm. The hot body against me, touching me, sometimes wrapped around me, is Peyton Brady. This is real. It’s happening in real life.

My dreams don’t stop being sexy, though. I can still feel his hands on my ass, pulling our cocks together. Then I feel him behind me, rubbing his dick through my ass crack, his cockhead grazing my sensitive hole. What makes me moan is his ass against my cock, though.

This is what wakes me. I wake up breathing heavily. Peyton’s hips rock against me, rubbing tantalizingly against my hard dick.

“Are you awake or teasing me in your sleep?” I murmur, voice slurred with sleep.

“Both,” he says. “Touch me.”

I drop my hand to his ass and rub his hole. He makes the most beautiful whining sound. It’s filled with need and lust, filling me with fire and want.

It takes me several trips between his hole and my mouth to get him wet enough for me to finger again. I press in deep, loving the way he gasps loudly. Loving the way his hips buck back against me.

He rolls onto his stomach, and I follow, digging in deeper.

Peyton makes another whining sound, this one filled with frustration. “More,” he says. “Please.”

“I have a condom,” I tell him. “If you want?—”

“Fuck yes, I want. Get your condom and fuck me.”

I practically jump from the bed, grabbing my cock as I do. It’s throbbing. Holy fuck. I try not to overthink this moment. Not to read so much into it.

We’re stranded in a storm, in a single bed, all alone. Orgasms will be had. It’s practically in the rule book for being stranded in storms. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he’s falling for me. This isn’t a life commitment. It’s just a fuck.

At some point, I’m going to have to face the question as to why I brought a couple condoms and travel packs of lube with me. But right now, with Peyton rubbing his cock against the bed, I don’t think I have to admit that there’s always a hope that we’d fuck.

If I’m honest, I have a lot of hope for a fuck ton of things. Is the way to a man’s heart through his orgasm? There’s a chance.

I roll the condom on as I head for the bed. I’m already lubing myself when I climb over him. His legs are spread a little, his ass rolled up, giving me a good look at his needy hole. I’ve spent so much of this past year imagining his hole.

“Dana,” he whimpers. “Fuck me.”

A thrill of lust shivers down my spine. I squirt a generous dollop of lube over his hole and push some inside him. Then I line my dick up and press inside. Slowly. Peyton moans, one long, low, constant sound that pulls at my balls.

I come down on the bed behind him and wrap myself around his body. One arm under his chest, hooking on his biceps. The other curling up around his head, gripping the top.

I push inside him deeper and deeper until I bottom out. The high-pitched gasps he makes have me panting. So good. So fucking good. So hot and tight and wet. I pull my dick out until only my cockhead remains and hold for a second. Then I drop back inside him in one fell swoop.

His body jerks. His hips come up. His ass clenches around me. “Just like that,” he pants. “Fuck. More.”

I do it again and again, and I’m rewarded with a full-body reaction. And again. Again.

I have Peyton pinned in such a way that he can’t move his arms much. I love this. I love having this big man trapped beneath me. I love how much he’s enjoying me.

When his hips roll up, I stop thrusting and let him fuck himself on my dick. He does. Without me needing to tell him to take what he wants from me, he does exactly that. His knees dig into the bed as he bucks his hips up, his ass swallowing my cock with each thrust.

His sounds don’t stop. They become louder. Needier. Until he’s practically sobs, “Fuck me, Dana. Make me come.”

I shove his hips back into the bed with mine, burying myself in deeply. With my knees, I push his legs closed, keeping them trapped that way. Making his ass squeeze my cock tighter. Making his entire body tighter.

It makes me have to push harder. Fuck him with more effort.

Peyton gets louder. Whinier. I never thought he could sound sexier than what I imagined.

I was so fucking wrong. There’s nothing hotter than this moment.

His hole made tighter by the position, causing me to force my way inside him.

The way he keeps begging me to get him off tells me how much he likes it.

“More,” he cries.

I give him more. I fuck him just how he wants to be fucked until he comes.

His orgasm is loud. A cross between gasping, sobbing, and choking. It’s so fucking sexy. I fuck him long after he’s finished until I fill the condom.

There’s a moment when I’m suspended, floating in a haze of wondering whether I’m dreaming this. My cock, still deep in his ass, doesn’t sway my belief one way or the other.

This isn’t real. This can’t have just happened. Holy hell, I just had my dick in the most perfect man alive. How do I live tomorrow with that knowledge? How is any day going to compare to this night?

“Mmm,” Peyton hums. “Best orgasm. Keep fucking me, hot stuff.”

I press my face to the back of his neck and obediently do as he asks. This time, I’m slow. Breathless. Exhausted. I move my hips in a slow rolling motion that’s more sensation than movement.

Still, it manages to make him moan. My grip on his hair and around his arm tightens as I fuck him so damn slowly that we both fall asleep.

* * *

The condom was lost somewhere in the night. When I next wake up, it’s still dark out. The rain is still pelting down. The fire has this tiny cabin baked. The blankets have long since been shoved to the floor.

I reach around half-heartedly looking for the condom, but I don’t find it. Maybe it went over the side with the blanket. That’s entirely possible.

Peyton sighs in his sleep. I’m once more between him and the wall. He’s mostly on his stomach, with his arm wrapped around my waist, his face buried between my body and the bed.

I have a good view of his strong back. His plump ass. His thick thighs. He’s perfection.

For a long time, I simply admire him. How can one man be so damn gorgeous? So perfect? I love everything about him.

It’s not uncommon when you build someone up in your mind so thoroughly that when you actually get to know them, you realize that the person you created is far from the one in reality. Many crushes have ended in disappointment.

I keep waiting for that moment. To learn something about Peyton that will completely turn me off him and end my crush. I’m still waiting.

He’s not all football. He has some depth to him. He’s passionate about his game and doesn’t want to deviate from his dream. That could be seen as narrow-minded and unrealistic. Maybe setting yourself up for failure.

At the same time, it also allows him to dedicate himself fully to one set of skills. He’s not taking tons of time for study, but putting it all back into his game. It’s admirable.

But he’s not all football. He’s talked about football some, but only when I bring it up. He doesn’t get stuck on the topic. He’s not offended that I don’t know football more than the basics.

He has other likes. Other skills. Other passions, even if he doesn’t see them as equally important. There’s no doubt in my mind that this date could have gone disastrously with anyone else. Being caught in a lightning storm when on a fucking lake is dangerous. Incredibly dangerous.

Peyton didn’t panic. He remained calm, knowing exactly what to do, and he made it happen. He brought us to shore without my help. Probably with my hindrance more than anything. We found the cabin. We’re dry and have eaten.

This could have gone badly over and over again. But he even had a plan for how to keep us safe if this cabin didn’t exist. I think we’re both incredibly thankful it does, but he’d have kept us safe and alive without it.

Then there are the base needs. Orgasms. Say what you want, but bad sex can entirely turn you off someone. It doesn’t even have to be that they’re bad at sex. It could be something as simple as being incompatible. Maybe you like different things.

Somehow, this man is even my perfect bed partner. The sounds he makes, the feel of his body, the way we move together in total harmony. Everything about it is amazing. I have a feeling it’s only going to get better as we continue.

My crush hasn’t dwindled at all. If anything, it’s only strengthened. That’s dangerous.

Peyton sighs in his sleep, his fingers curling against my back.

Gently, so I don’t wake him, I touch the back of his shoulder and let my fingers trail down his spine.

He’s so beautiful. So perfect. There’s no wonder I have a crush on him.

It’s not just his big smile, his flirty tone, his adorable dimples.

It’s Peyton the package. Peyton the man. He’s not just a dream. He’s here. He’s real, and he’s tucked around me.

Everything is going really, really well, but there’s nothing else out here but the two of us. It’s also entirely possible this could be nothing but a fling. I imagine it’s easy to fall into this exact scenario with literally anyone under the same set of circumstances.

When we get back to campus, back to our lives, will this be anything other than a memory for him? Will he think back on it at all?

Worse, will Peyton regret it? Will he act like it never happened? Will he come into the café and pretend I’m still just the barista that he barely talks to? Pretends to flirt with? Or maybe he won’t acknowledge me at all.

I bought a date, after all. It doesn’t come with a lifetime guarantee. It doesn’t promise anything after this one date.