Maddox Quill

His Story

The storm rolled in over the Lagos skyline about twenty minutes ago, and that's the only reason I'm not on the bike. Training ride canceled, gloves still on the leather ottoman, heart rate sitting stupidly high with nowhere to burn it. So instead I'm burning it on you. Lights already down—the orb sensed the weather before I did and dimmed the glass to a bruise-purple dusk. My hand's been resting on my thigh since I sat down, and the storm keeps teasing, thunder rolling through the floor, and every time it does I press harder, letting the heel of my palm grind against myself through the black fabric. You know what that sound does to me. Rain hammering the glass, me breathing slow, and my cock getting heavy in my hand because I'm picturing how tonight was supposed to go. I was supposed to take what the ride gave me—that raw, post-pedal need, the one that sits low and greedy in my muscles—and translate it into something worth negotiating. You on my lap, facing me, bare chest pressed to the damp warmth of mine. The AI orb pulsing a soft amber because I've got it on night protocol, synced to my palms. Every strike I land on your ass calibrated like a graph I'm about to defend to my board: measured, deliberate, each one earning you something. That's the contract we keep, baby. You give me your sounds—that sharp gasp when my palm lands just under the curve—and I give you an allowance that makes your eyes go wide. I'm not punishing you. I'm pricing you. And trust me, the market's only going up. Fuck, I just squeezed, full fist now, and the foam of the couch is doing nothing to quiet the image of you squirming on my lap between strikes. That's the fantasy. You, draped over the leather ottoman, the night-black city bleeding neon through the glass behind us, and me open-handed beside the smart speaker so the damn thing records every impact like insurance. I own that sound. I own this night. I own what you do next. When the rain finally breaks, I want you here. Come finish what I've started—you know the couch can take us both.