Silence in the Library, A Short

I had come to the University library that cool spring night to try and get some work done. It was generally quiet, not having the loud music and conversation common to the cliche coffee shop haunts of the ordinary writer. More importantly, there was a dedicated study area that contained many large tables with built in power sources and enough room to spread out the laptop, notebooks, note cards, books, and the various detritus of a research project that somehow accumulates with time. I had selected one such monstrous table, it easily could have sat eight, with two lamps firmly attached just off center of the table with power outlets to either side. I could only assume there must be a company somewhere that custom made such tables for board rooms and libraries, though I doubted somehow there were many such businesses. My table floated on the edge of an ocean of such monsters near a massive west facing window. I selected a chair so that I sat on the very edge of the sea of tables with naught but a few large cushioned chairs between me and the fair view of the campus. The old stone buildings cramped in close to one another due to the urban locale of the university like commuters on a busy subway, the only green spaces being a few trees and grass on either side of the walkways which connected the structures like concrete rails.

Shortly after I had arrived and arranged my clutter just as I desired it this day, he took up a plush chair nearer the large bank of windows but still a comfortable distance from me. We made brief eye contact and he gave an apologetic gesture by way of congenial smile as he settled into the cushions. He appeared to be about my height, just about six foot, and athletically built. His hair looked unseasonably short but he must have had a beanie of some sort along with the coat he carried under one arm. He had on a white long sleeve shirt with some team logo or some such I can't remember, gray sweat pants, and white tennis shoes. I initially took all this in during the brief moment of eye contact and thought nothing of it.

I paid no mind to him initially, yet as my thoughts would occasionally wander or I required a short break, I found myself staring at him. I disinterestedly studied the sharp angle of his jaw, his shoulders, the way he was slouched low in the chair with both feet planted on the floor, as I would study any other person in public; a cultivated writer's habit to observe people like characters to be replicated for my work. He caught me staring at him more than once, and I quickly darted my eyes back to my laptop. It was hard not to stare though. He had sat directly within my eye line and was, as far as I knew, the only other student in the library at so late an hour. On the pretense of a cigarette break I made a quick circuit of the library interior and found that he was indeed the only other patron. Studying for a test, I assumed while I smoked quickly as it was a rather cold night and I had only brought along a sweater.

Once I had returned to my seat, try as I might, I couldn't return to my work. My thoughts followed my eyes always back to him while he quietly read and generally ignored my existence. Something about him bothered me. In a four story library, at nearly one in the morning, when he could have chosen any seat why had he chosen the one on the highest floor directly in sight of the only other person? Certainly, he had come here as I had for the solitude. Then again, perhaps he wanted the silent company. I did not. He had already proven a distraction. I made to pack my things when he cleared his throat quietly and shifted in his seat. It drew my attention, surely enough, as he had probably intended. I wouldn't have thought anything of it except that he shot me a quick glance before returning to his book.

My interest piqued, I studied him more carefully. He adjusted himself quite conspicuously, making a poor attempt to hide the fact that he wanted me to notice him. Never-the-less his effort was effective as it was only then that I noticed the way he made a less than vague outline in the soft material of his pants. I felt my heartbeat quicken a little along with a familiar twitch. It was my turn to readjust in my seat. This time when he looked my direction I didn't break his gaze. We stared at each other for a moment across the short distance that separated us. Without breaking eye contact he raised one eyebrow, brazenly cupped his bulge in his hand, and gave it a solid shake in my direction. My breath caught in my throat and my heart began to race with the sudden surge of adrenaline. There was no doubt in my mind now, he had come to cruise the library, and though unexpected I couldn't help but grin boyishly.

I nodded to him and before I could speak held a finger to his lips and shot up from the chair. When he was close enough he grabbed the armrest of my chair and pivoted me to face him, stepping in close to me. I resisted his daring, his dominance not at all. I knew now, sitting on the edge of the chair staring directly at the seam of his pants, that he had won somehow. I was his prize to be used as he saw fit. Subconsciously I licked my lips in anticipation at what must surely come next, certain my heart might burst any moment as fear and excitement coursed in equal measure through my core. I could smell the faint remnants of cologne intermingled with what must certainly be his scent. My nerves tingled, my hair stood on end, my mouth watered. The only thing which separated us now was a layer of fabric. I looked around nervously, my back was to the library so I would have to trust him to keep a look out. I looked up to him and he nodded eagerly, so with a deep breath I hooked his waistband with my thumbs. I pulled them down slowly and he scanned the library before him anxiously once more.

Knowing that any moment we might be discovered, that any moment I might lose my nerve, I put one hand on his hips, grabbed him with the other and began in earnest to give the best that I could. He brazenly pulled off his shirt and shrugged his pants to the floor as I did so. I sighed contentedly and tried, not for the first time, to fix this moment in my mind. The sight of his smooth abs, the soft little happy trail that led from his belly button, as they slowly encompassed the whole of my vision. The heat and feel of his body in my hands. The smooth texture and taste of his skin as I explored him. The true smell of him that lingered so close to the skin. The amazing sensation of feeling him expand in response to my efforts. I tried to emblazon it all in my mind.

I should have known he wouldn't, couldn't stop there. I was his prize after all. He had baited me with nothing more than a hint at his groin and I had taken it. He had seized upon my weakness and now he owned me. His hands found the back of my head, gripping my hair, he forcefully thrust himself deeper. A new thrill shot through me, equal parts terror and joy, as he dominated me wholly. Feeling I might choke I held onto him and tried to relax while he invaded ever further. I gave myself over to him as I had never done for anyone else. In mere seconds, this guy I had never met before proved himself to be more man than I could ever hope and I was powerless to stop him. I wondered fleetingly how we might explain this if someone were to discover us now in so compromising a position. How would I explain to my friends and family, my girlfriend?

I tried to focus on the here and now and pushed aside all other thoughts. I sucked in air whenever I could and watched his smooth abs in helpless wonder as he relentlessly used me. I let my hands wander across what little of his hard body I could reach, and could feel the tension in him building. His muscles grew tight beneath my finger tips, his whole body seemed to vibrate. I was nothing to this man. A mouth for his use, and I was all too happy for it. At last, when I began to use my hands to cup and stroke him I heard his breath catch in his throat. Then, with a nearly inaudible grunt, he released the tension of his body in several strong pulses, draining everything he had into me. With a last great effort, he pressed my face against him and held me there. I felt buried, subsumed by his flesh. I could see and feel nothing that wasn't him, and in that moment, I felt content and whole. Then a sudden emptiness and I gasped and sucked in cool air, only realizing at that moment I hadn't been able to breathe.

He smiled warmly down at me and tried to take a step back. I pulled him closer and licked at him slowly, cleaning off the last vestige of our chance meeting, long after he was completely soft. He sighed contentedly then and fell weakly, still naked, into the plush armchair nearest the table. I closed my eyes and relaxed slouching back into my seat, slowly churning the not entirely unpleasant taste of him in my mouth. It had been a long time since last I had tasted another man, and I wasn't about to miss anything now. I opened my eyes when I felt him grab my hands in his. He had pulled on his pants again, but remained shirtless. I didn't know what he had in mind now, but I no longer cared. I knew I was his. I allowed him to pull me from my chair and guide me to him, pulling me in close to his body. His kiss surprised me. It was strong and unrelenting, yet his lips were soft and warm and his skin smooth as from a recent shave. I held onto him tightly, dragging my nails across his shoulders. He moaned gently into our kiss. His hands confidently made short work of unfastening my belt while his lips distracted me. Before I could think about what was happening he turned me around and grabbed my wrists. I moved in a complacent daze as he used my belt to secure my hands together behind my back. Turning me once more he kissed me again and drove me backwards until his body pressed me against the window. In one movement, he pulled me free from my clothes with a deftness that could only have come from practice. I gasped at his touch, perhaps too loudly, and looked around fearfully. As it happened I had an excellent vantage of the whole floor. It seemed unlikely anyone could catch us without either of us knowing about it first. Although, to be honest, I didn't care. He stroked my gently and silenced my soft groans of pleasure by kissing me again.

He knelt down before me, slowly stroking me still. We locked eyes once again and he took me into his mouth. I tried to stay quiet, I tried to give him no reaction, but I quickly lost myself in the wet warmth of him and all power of thought or self control left me. He worked like a master painter, a slow confident brush here, a stroke there, a short flick or dab just so. Time ceased to exist for me. Another may have finished the work more quickly, perhaps, but he clearly reveled in it and was in no hurry. More than once I strained my hands against my own belt, certain the end was near, dying to grab him and force myself into him as he had done to me. Yet each time he quickly pulled away with a smile and patiently waited to begin anew. I had no choice but to submit to him and wait. Consciousness seemed to fall to the way side. I was sensation, being, nothing more. Wordlessly I had opened a part of me and he accepted it, let me lose myself deep within him and in that moment we connected. I was not owned, I had not submitted, I had been subsumed, enveloped within another. He had been inside of me as I was now inside him, and for the short time we were together we merged and the world receded to some distant place far from this moment.

My legs shook a little when awareness returned to me at last, he was still patiently and skillfully moving his mouth across the length of me. I was aware of loss, a sore hollowness from emptying myself into this man; a physical and emotional void. I was content at my loss, as I had taken something of him into me as well and gained from his loss as he now gained from mine. A clarity and calm overcame me as I vainly pushed my hips towards him a last few times in the hope of pushing the world away once more. Eventually he moved and I fell wetly from him. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, removed my belt, and helped me into my clothes again.

He left me to my work then. The smell of him seemed to linger on my clothes and, though he was gone now, the taste of him distracted me still.