Meredith cried out brokenly, the man’s hands rough from work and strange and harsh against such a delicate place on his body but he found he liked that as well. It had been too long since he had had anything but his own hand to pleasure himself and he enjoyed the difference.
He bit down harder against the man’s neck, tugging his shirt open so he could bite him across his shoulders and collar bone. The man’s skin smelt darkly of sex and sweat and work and Meredith revelled in it. He found the man’s roughness appealing in a primal way. Too long he had been without anything and those last few times had been the fumbling of a confused adolescent who’d had no real knowledge or drive to for fill Meredith’s needs, only to experience and who had come to quickly and forgotten his bed-mate. He had no fears this night would end like that one had. The man was skilled although running on instinct and Meredith was not to shy or ashamed now to tell him what he wanted.