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“Water’s cold, too,” he said, unplugging the drain before starting up the tap again and filling the sink with fresh bubbles and steam. Grabbing the washcloth, he wrung it out before cleaning the few dishes he’d put in the drain tray and starting on the ones he hadn’t gotten to.
Is he fucking serious? There was literally cum dripping down Clint’s leg, but he was doing the dishes. And was he humming? Scotland tilted his head to the side as he lifted himself off the ground, tugging his pants all the way off before planting his ass in the nearest chair.
“Did you want something for dessert?” asked Clint, throwing a smile over his shoulder. “If your freezer is stocked anything like mine, you’ve got a few options.”
A smirk spread over his lips as Scotland leaned back in his chair. “I think I already had dessert. Your ass was the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Clint let out a little snort. “You just keep getting smoother.” He shook his head, wringing out the cloth before heading to the table. He leaned over as he wiped the surface, catching the little crumbs that had strayed from their plates.
Scotland slipped his hand between Clint’s thighs as soon as he came close enough, dragging his fingers through the sticky trail there. He bumped against Clint’s entrance with one knuckle, reveling in the gasp. He was still so wet.
“I was thinking more along the lines of another round,” said Scotland, cupping Clint’s sac and kneading it until the cloth slipped from Clint’s hand and fell to the floor.
If he had his way, he’d turn one more round into a dozen. Then maybe Clint would get hooked in the same way he was.
I should have taken my time. Clint seemed hesitant, and that put a shot of dread straight through Scotland’s chest. If he would have known, he would have gotten the cock ring and fucked Clint for a solid hour. It still wouldn’t have been enough.
Clint gave him a half-smile before leaning to retrieve the cloth and turning to the sink. He pulled the plug on the water, hanging the cloth as he reached for a dish towel.
You’ve got to be kidding me. “You don’t have to dry them, Clint. It’s called a drying rack for a reason.” Air drying was the only way in his book. He only had the dishcloth to wipe his hands on after he washed them.
“It will only take me a minute,” said Clint, letting out a small chuckle as he turned with a plate in his hand. “Just like you.” His chuckle turned into a laugh as Scotland scowled and pursed his lips.
“How am I supposed to last when you’re fucking yourself on my cock like a wild bronco? It doesn’t help that you’re cute as hell and your ass is tighter than a vise.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he realized that he’d just smeared cum through it.
Clint slid the last plate into its spot in the cupboard before he turned back, giving Scotland a long look. He felt his face flush as he looked down at himself, wondering what Clint was seeing. He was in good shape, but he wasn’t a supermodel by any means.
And he did have a lot of tattoos, which were a turn off for some. The idea of that was ridiculous to him. Tattoos only made a person hotter.
The shiny film on the fresh tattoo on his leg didn’t exactly look appealing. He’d almost forgotten about it, but it burned like fresh sunburn, the wrap already itchy as hell.
“You good?” asked Clint, scratching at the speckling of hair on his chest. “I don’t know what you usually need for aftercare. I’m good and steady now. How are you feeling?”
When the hell had their places switched? And why the hell did he suddenly feel like he wanted to submit? Usually, he only had one role with the same person, either submissive or Dominant, but never both.
“I’m good. That wasn’t my most intense scene—not by a long shot. And I don’t usually drop too hard. I guess that’s pretty common for switches.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling exceedingly naked sitting in his dining room. His skin prickled in the cool air, but he was still wearing his shirt. Clint seemed to see right through it.
“Good.” Clint nodded, reaching for his own pants and crumpling the fabric in his hand. “I’m only a few steps away or a phone call if you need me. I guess you have my phone number now, after all.”
Scotland nodded, frozen as Clint padded over to the door still completely naked. He slipped on his sandals, heading out of the door before closing it shut softly behind him. The silence was near deafening in his wake, the kitchen hazy with the smell of sex and sweat.
“What the hell just happened?” He looked around the kitchen, the delicious meal like a distant memory. One thing was for sure. He still hadn’t made any progress.
Chapter Nine
Scotland
What is the best channel for news?
Scotland glanced at the text again before rubbing his hand through his hair. His client looked to be getting a bit frustrated, and truth be told, so was he. His phone had been buzzing every time he got truly focused on the piece, so he’d had to take more breaks than usual.
Clint had to be fucking with him.
“Sorry about that,” said Scotland, quickly washing his hands before tugging on a fresh pair of gloves. “We only have a bit of shading left by your wrist, then we’ll call it a day.”
His client gave him a weak smile. They’d been at it for almost three hours, and they were definitely approaching limits for the both of them. His back was still aching from his romp on the floor, and his client had been squirming for the past ten minutes.
“The wrist is the worst,” she said, scrunching one eye as he flicked the machine back on and started in on the final section of the day. He was doubting the dark shadows that he’d planned for the spot, going for broader strokes instead. The darker it was, the more it was going to hurt.
