Operation Meet Cute by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 5
TEDDY
The smell of cooking chicken and soy sauce fills my kitchen and makes my stomach growl.
Mrrrow, Eileen begs, shamelessly rubbing her body against my leg and then nuzzling her tiny, cold nose against my bare calf.
“There’s food in your bowl, little missy.” I point the spatula at her half-full bowl, sitting in the corner of the small kitchen. She blinks up at me with those big, green eyes of hers, clearly not impressed with my suggestion that she eat cat food instead of chicken.
I hear the sound of my apartment door opening and closing, a smile jumping instantly to my face.
“I smell stir fry,” Harlow declares, sniffing at the air just as unrepentantly as the cat. He looks over my shoulder and grins. “Hell yeah, I knew it.”
“You did not smell this all the way from your apartment.”
“I did,” he argues. “It calls to me like a siren song.”
I snort. “I’m not sure I have enough,” I lie, just because it’s fun to tease him.
Harlow scoffs. “I know you better than that, Teddy Bear.” He drapes himself over my shoulders and playfully rubs my beard, my whole body humming to life, buzzing at the closeness and the way his unique scent invades my nose.
“It’ll be ready soon,” I say, my voice sounding a little gruff, even to me. I shift on the spot, hoping he won’t notice the effect his casual touch has on me. Then again, if he hasn’t noticed it so far, I’m not sure why it would occur to him now. Besides, he’s the one who said we should have sex, so at some point he’s going to get an eyeful of my erection.
I groan internally, the thought making my cock even harder, trapped against my thigh.
“Great.” He hops up on the counter next to the stove. “I gave my script to Timothy today.”
“Yeah? Feeling nervous about it?” He’s never let me look at one of his scripts. As far as I know, he’s never let anyone read one outside of his professors when he was in school.
“Damn near shitting myself,” he confirms. “But I have to get over the nerves. The whole point is for people to read my scripts…well, see them performed, but same difference. This is going to be good.” It’s clear he’s trying to convince himself, so I nod encouragingly. “What if he hates it?”
“He won’t hate it,” I assure him.
“Fuck, this is stressful,” he groans.
I reach over to turn off the stove and then start dishing the food up onto two plates I already had set out and waiting. “I know, but it’s a big step in the right direction for your career. Try not to think about it too much until he brings it up again.”
“Right, good thinking. I need a distraction tonight.” He takes the plate I offer him, still perched on the counter while I stand to eat. Since I sit all day at my desk, it’s nice to stretch my legs when I can at night.
I grin and take a bite of my food. “Which rom com will it be?”
“I think I’m going to need to get serious if I really want to be distracted,” he says, sounding so serious I can’t help but laugh.
“So, He’s Just Not That Into You followed by Say Anything?” I guess.
“Mm-hmm,” he says around a full mouth. “We might even need to go for the Holy Trinity and throw When Harry Met Sally in there.”
“This is serious,” I tease.
“My entire future is in the hands of Director Dickhead,” he points out.
“Bullshit,” I say firmly. “Your future is always in your hands. If he tells you he doesn’t like the script, then fuck him. You are smart and talented and you’re going to be a kick-ass director one day, with or without Timothy the Twat.”
“You don’t know that I’m talented,” Harlow argues, pointing a forkful of chicken and rice at me.
“Low, you are the most single-minded perfectionist I’ve ever met. You don’t half-ass anything, and you don’t rest until you accomplish what you set out to do. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that you’ll be an amazing director.”
He goes completely still, staring at me for a few seconds, his cheeks turning the barest shade of pink, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far with the compliment. Not that I would take it back. Every word was the truth. Hell, if he puts half as much energy into his dream career as he does into living out his perfect movie moment, he’ll be the next Spielberg without breaking a sweat.
“Thanks, Teddy Bear, that means a lot.” He clears his throat and takes another bite of his food.
We finish eating, and Harlow helps me clean up the kitchen. While he’s distracted, cooing at Eileen about what a pretty girl she is, I sneakily slip the silly haiku into his back pocket, grinning to myself at the thought of him finding it later. Then we head into the living room to enact our distraction plan.
He gets comfortable with his back against one arm of the couch and his feet on the middle cushion while I take the far spot and grab the remote to start the movie. I’m not sure if he loves this movie so much because he’s secretly harboring a crush on Justin Long or if it’s because he identifies with the main heroine, slightly brainwashed by too many romance movies. Of course, she gets her very Hollywood happily ever after in the end, anyway. Not much of a lesson learned if you ask me.
Normally, Harlow keeps up a fairly constant stream of chatter about whatever movie we’re watching, but tonight he’s unusually quiet. While we watch, his feet inch closer and closer to me until he’s casually nudging my thigh with his cold toes.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.
He sighs. “This distraction isn’t working. I’m still thinking about Timothy hating my script.”
“So we should switch to Rocky instead?” I joke.
“Ha. No,” he answers flatly, and I grin. “I was thinking…” Harlow licks his lips. “Maybe I need a different kind of distraction.”
My heart skips a beat and my skin heats all at once. This is happening. It wasn’t just idle talk or something Harlow thought of and then got distracted and forgot. He wants to have sex…with me…right now.
My cock hardens so fast I’m sure it sets a world record. How long have I been imagining this moment? Okay, not this moment exactly. In my fantasies there was usually some form of commitment involved, going on a date at least, but I’m not going to turn my nose up at this version if it’s what he’s offering.
I’m surprised I manage to keep my hands from shaking as I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and tugging gently. “Come here.”
He scoots toward me without hesitation, draping his legs over my lap and moving close enough that I’m able to wrap my arm all the way around his shoulders. A nervous smile dances on his lips while my stomach twists itself in anxious knots.
For a few seconds, we don’t do anything but stare at each other, living in that awkward, intense moment that only exists right before a first kiss where you’re both wondering who should make the first move, what the other person’s mouth is going to feel like, and if everything is about to change.
I lean in closer, our lips only a few inches apart, and Harlow starts to laugh.
“Sorry, your beard tickles,” he says, sounding a little breathless. I wait a few seconds until his laughter subsides and try again, bumping my nose against his and earning another round of brittle, shaky laughter.
I lean back, and he takes a deep breath.
“You know, we don’t have to do this. There are other ways I could take your mind off worrying about Timothy.”
“No,” he says quickly, grabbing the front of my shirt, his grin falling away and being replaced by a serious expression. “I’m just feeling a little…I don’t know, bubbly or something. Give me a second.”
I put a hand on his knee, still draped over my thighs, and squeeze it. “You can have a million seconds. This is just for fun, Low. No pressure.”
“Fun and distraction,” he reminds me, his smile returning but slightly less manic this time, which is a good sign.
“Exactly. So, why don’t you stay right here.” I tighten my hand against his leg again to illustrate my point. “And we’ll let things happen, or not happen, naturally.”
He nods and tilts his head to rest it against my shoulder, twisting his body just slightly so his legs are still over mine, but he’s facing the TV a little more.
“Scarlet Johansson is so fierce. Do you think she’d ever be in one of my movies?” he asks wistfully a few minutes later.
“Absolutely. She’ll be begging to be in one of your movies. You’ll have A-list celebrities banging down your door, desperate to be in a Harlow Monroe film.”
He surprises me with a kiss on my cheek. I turn my head and find him right there, no more nervousness or humor in his expression, just curious heat.
We lean in at the same time, a jumble of emotions erupting inside me as soon as our lips touch. He gasps against my mouth, his fingers tightening around the fabric of my shirt, and in a flash, he’s in my lap, straddling me.
His lips are soft, and they taste like a hint of vanilla and spice and Harlow. I don’t know how to describe it other than that. It’s nothing I’ve ever tasted or imagined, but now that I am, it’s so obviously Harlow. He wraps his arms around my neck and deepens the kiss, parting his lips and coaxing my tongue into his mouth while he grinds against me, rolling his hips and dragging his hard cock against mine through layers of clothing.
My heart is beating so fast that I can hardly breathe, but the last thing I’m worried about right now is oxygen. I drag my fingers up his back, taking his shirt with me as I run my hands along his spine and up to his shoulder blades. I’ve touched him a million times in thousands of casual ways, but I never noticed how smooth and warm his skin is before. The man must bathe in moisturizer.
My hands are greedy, unsure where to touch him next. There’s a very real possibility this will be the one and only time he wants to do this, which makes me afraid to miss an inch of him while I have the chance. I kiss my way along his chin and down his throat, slipping one hand down to his ass to squeeze and kneed it through his obnoxiously tight pants and dragging the other one through his hair while he gulps in air to catch his breath.
“Teddy.” He pants my name and thrusts against me, grinding the hard ridge of his erection against mine.
“Let me suck you off?” I ask, nipping at his Adam’s apple and then sucking the patch of skin into my mouth, not long enough to leave a lasting mark, but enough to make his flesh slightly pink.
“Yeah.” He nods, leaning his head back to let me have more of his throat, and I’m greedy enough to take it, licking and nibbling his skin until my lips start to ache for his mouth again. I kiss my way back up, claiming his lips with mine for a second time.
Harlow buries his fingers in my hair and kisses me back, hard and deep. The way he feeds me breathless sounds as our tongues tangle, it’s easy to convince myself for a few minutes that he’s been as desperate for this moment as I have.
My cock fucking aches, precum soaking the fabric of my underwear with every roll of his hips. Embarrassingly, I have no doubt I could come just like this, fully clothed, kissing Harlow like my life depends on it. But I’ll never forgive myself if I miss my only one chance to have his cock in my mouth, so I grab two handfuls of his ass and hoist him off my lap. He gasps around my tongue, wrapping his legs around me as I lift him up and then lay him down on the couch, hovering over him with one knee on the couch and the other foot on the floor.
Slipping one hand between us, I undo Harlow’s jeans, and he lifts his hips so I can shove them down around his thighs, not breaking our kiss but nipping at my bottom lip while I do. His cock springs forward, and I pull away from his lips so I can look between us. I’ve caught sight of him naked a few times over the years, purely by accident, but he’s never been hard, and he’s certainly never been panting my name and thrusting in search of my touch.
If it wasn’t for the sting of his teeth against my bottom lip and the prickly feeling of his body hair under my hands, I might be tempted to wonder if I’m dreaming.
“Suck me, Teddy.”
Jesus, I think he could ask me to do just about anything in that trembling, desperate voice, and I would do it. The fact that he’s asking me to do something I’ve been fantasizing about for years is just icing on the cake.
I set my other foot on the floor and then slide down onto my knees in front of the couch, wrapping my hand around the base of his cock.
It’s short and thick, the foreskin rolling forward and back as I move my hand up and down his length. A bead of precum trickles from his slit and rolls down to meet my fist. I lean forward and drag my tongue along the same path it just traveled, moaning at the salty taste of it, along with the flavor of his skin.
I want to tease him. I want to kiss and suck every inch of his body until he’s begging me to put his cock in my mouth already. I want to make him so desperate that by the time he comes, he forgets that other men exist in the world. But my impatience gets the better of me, and I wrap my lips around his erection.
We both groan as his cock slides over my tongue, the weight of it making my eyes roll back and my balls tighten.
“Fuck. Teddy.” His fingers find their way into my hair again, tugging enough to make my scalp sting, grounding me in the moment in the best way. Harlow’s thighs tremble, and his hips twitch, forcing him deeper into my mouth.
His cock is the perfect length: long enough to fill my mouth, but not so long that I need to worry about my pesky gag reflex. I suck eagerly, lapping at his length with my tongue as I bob my head up and down, memorizing every throbbing vein and silky inch of skin.
Harlow grunts and groans, thrusting to meet every downward stroke of my mouth, salty pools of precum flooding my mouth and making me more desperate to taste the flood of cum I’m wild to suck out of him.
“Teddy, Teddy, Teddy.” My name drips from his lips and turns into a sob.
I growl around my full mouth and suck harder, looking up to meet his eyes and finding him staring down at me with a look that I have no doubt will star in my fantasies for the rest of my life. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest is heaving with every breath.
He throws his head back, his cock spasming against my tongue. “I’m close,” he warns in a strangled tone, pushing on my head instead of grasping at it now.
I hum in acknowledgment and suck him faster, harder, hungrier. Can the taste of someone else’s cum give a man an orgasm? Because I think it’s a damn close thing. The hot, sticky pulses of his cum land on my tongue and coat the back of my throat, and a deep ripple of pleasure rolls through my body and settles in my balls.
I lap at his throbbing cock until he shoves at my head again, and I reluctantly release him from my mouth. Stumbling to my feet, I open my own jeans, groaning with relief when my cock is freed. Harlow is still catching his breath, but he sits up, his eyes fixated on my cock as I jerk myself furiously. I’m so fucking hard and horny that it’s only going to take a second before I finish. The lingering taste of his release on my lips and tongue is nearly enough to do it on their own.
“Fuck,” I pant, my balls constricting and heat starting to spread through the pit of my stomach.
“Here, Teddy.” He opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out like a porn-worthy welcome mat.
I grab onto his hair with my free hand, pulling his head forward and letting out a deep, guttural cry as my orgasm washes over me. My cum lands in thick ropes against his tongue and on his chin. The filthy sight of him covered in my release amplifies my orgasm tenfold, dragging it on and on until I’m not sure how I’m still managing to stay upright, my hand still working over my cock until it’s too sensitive and starting to soften.
I sag forward, landing on the couch just next to Harlow.
“Wow. Talk about a distraction,” he mutters, grinning at me with my cum still clinging to his lips. “I’d better go wash up.”
I nod weakly, watching as he hops off the couch, stuffing his own cock away and zipping up his jeans.
Goddamn was I wrong about sex with him working this crush out of my system.
