Most days, my boyfriend isn’t the warmest person. But today his hands felt just as warm as the laundry wrinkling under me, under us. Every week we would visit the laundromat, set our clothes for a long wash and dry program, and enjoy the time strolling around the streets of our neighborhood, drinking overpriced iced coffees, and kissing in front of each and every shop window. But today we didn’t leave the laundromat. He was being quieter than usual. There was no stroll, no coffee, no kisses. The tumbling noises of the washing machine were the only piece of reality connecting us both to that time and place. 

When the machine beeped, he stood up and filled the bags with our fresh laundry in silence. He hung both bags on his forearms and went home. I walked behind him, awkwardly keeping the pace until we got in front of our door. I unlocked it and let him in. 

After locking the door again I enter our bedroom while he’s spreading the still warm laundry over the carpet. The air is dense with the scent of fabric softener. It’s almost hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s his hand, wrapped around my neck and pinning me down on top of the wrinkling clothes, that isn’t allowing me to breathe. His skin looks slightly darker from the orange light that filters through the bedroom’s half-closed blinds. 

He loses his grip on my neck and leans down until our noses are separated only by a small stream of air. His breath tastes of white summer truffle. He slaps me across the face once. And then once again. My cheeks get fuzzy and I feel my body melting. He pulls up my skirt and runs one finger down over my underwear. Up and down. Barely applying any pressure, until the tip of his finger gets soaked. Then he dips his finger in my mouth and runs it across my tongue.

“How do you taste today?”, I make sure to lick it clean while he stares down at me. 

“Like I’ve missed you for too long.” I make an effort to enunciate it clearly, with his finger still in my mouth. “Why have you been so quiet today?”

“Do you want to know what I was thinking about while in the launderette?”

Gently pushing his finger out of my mouth with my tongue, I keep staring at him, licking it without breaking eye contact. “Yes, I would love to know.”

“I was thinking whether you’d let me grab your neck today.”

“You just did.”

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for permission.”

“You may do that, now and in the future. In fact, I give you my blessing to choke me anytime you want.” And as I say that, I grab his left hand, which he was supporting himself with, and wrapped it around my neck again, showing him how much I wanted it. How much I wanted him. That I’m his. 

“And can I do this?” He leans closer this time, resting his head near my shoulder. So close I can hear his lungs exhaling and his heart beating fast. With his right hand, he unbuttons his jeans, lifts up my t-shirt, and massages his cock against my bare stomach. He pushes his body back and forth a few more times, very gently. The pressure of his body pulls me down to Earth, magnetically fixing me to that room, to that pile of laundry, and to him. I slide myself down to lick his cock and I continue rubbing his cock with my tongue and lips, very gently at first. He cups the back of my head with his left hand to support the movement, and I keep licking and sucking, with special care on that spot around the tip that I know he particularly enjoys. He goes back to rubbing through my underwear, then slides one finger inside of me. His moans get louder.

He removes his finger and licks it himself this time, kissing me right after and sharing the taste with me while I keep rubbing his wet cock with my right hand. 

“I’m going to cum”, he moans these words three times while still kissing me, and my movements become faster. I feel the warmth of his cum on the bare skin of my stomach while my hand is still wrapped around him. I slide one finger through his cum and lick it clean, keeping eye contact while his breathing slows down. 

“You could write your name on me with your cum and I would proudly wear it out.”

“I love that about us. And I love doing laundry with you.”

“I love it too.”