“Like what?” I questioned, still breathless.
“I don’t know,” His chest was rising and falling hard too, “Like maybe you had to get a tattoo of my choice or something.”
As he said this, Colton gripped the bottom hem of his shirt, lifting it up to wipe the sweat away from his forehead. The move was so innocent, something I’d done a hundred, if not a thousand times myself.
There was a glimpse of a taut stomach and sweat-slicked abs that glistened in the sun, before the shirt rode up further and…
It was like all sound around me except for a dull ringing in my ears came to a complete stop. My heart pounded erratically in my chest.
It was pierced.
His nipple was pierced.
My eyes locked onto the silver barbell that sat snugglybetween the dark pink flesh on Colton’s chest, fixated until his shirt was dropped.
Was I even breathing? I sucked in a large lungful of air, suddenly feeling lightheaded.
What thefuck.
“Your nipple…” I croaked, my tongue feeling oddly heavy in my mouth.
Colton glanced at me, confusion clear in his face till it smoothed in recognition. He casually shrugged like it was a totally normal thing.
“I got them pierced in college. I like them, but sometimes tight clothing can rub on them a little too much. They’re sensitive.” He cupped his chest and said the last part in a shrill voice.
My brain hyper focused on one word.
Them.
Bothof his nipples were pierced.
My brain tripped over itself trying to make sense of that detail, like it couldn’t quite compute it.
Who justcasuallyhad both nipples pierced? Was that an aesthetic choice? I didn’t think it was. It felt so… intentional.
I hadn’t dated any girls that had their nipples pierced, but I knew someone who did in law school. He’d told our friend group his girlfriend loved to have the piercings played with; that she’d lost her mind when he sucked on them.
The mental image slammed into me without warning—Colton, shirtless, panting, someone’s mouth working over the metal, teasing him until he was gasping for more. My stomach clenched.
What kind of sounds would he make for them? Did he like to have them pinched and pulled on? Another image assaulted me, a faceless person bringing Colton to ecstasy from his nipples alone. His face contorted and wrecked with his fingers tangled in their hair to hold them against his chest.
And then it really hit me.
The images in my head weren’t feminine people doing this to Colton. He told me he was into both, but I was picturing him with someone masculine. My mouth went dry as my gut clenched. My skin felt hot and cold at the same time, and when I looked down…
Fuck.
I washard.
Not just kind of turned on. Not some vague, theoretical arousal. Full on,throbbing, tight-in-my-shorts hard. It felt like all the blood in my body had rushed to my crotch as my dick pulsed like it had its own heartbeat.
This was insane.
Colton jogged toward the ball, oblivious to the personal crisis unfolding ten feet away. His damp shirt clung to his back in a way that was definitelynothelping my situation, but that was also a mind-fuck. Since when did looking at men’s backs become erotic?
I clenched my hands on my thighs, sitting stock still as I tried to focus on literally anything else.
Tax codes. Screaming babies. Foot fungus. That one Hoarder's episode with the bathtub full of potatoes.
