“I cansmellyou,” he says, quiet and hungry.
“You can touch me and I won’t touch you. I promise,” Colton says and wills himself not to get hard. But it feels like a victory. Colton won the first battle. Of course Colton’s body is reacting.
Graham drags in a noisy breath. His hand lifts, trembles as he brings it to Colton’s thigh and puts it down, bracing himself as he leans closer. Choosing to steady himself using Colton instead of the bench. Colton’s dick throbs, an unreasonable reaction to a hand on his thigh.
The connection between them is unlike anything Colton has ever felt before. He tilts his head and Graham presses closer in a quick movement, burying his face against Colton’s neck.
“Oh my fucking God,” Graham whispers, voice ragged, close to a moan, and Colton breaks out in goose bumps.
Graham’s breath is hot against his skin.
Colton laces his fingers together, holds them tight, concerned he’ll forget himself and touch Graham. He’s squashing his own instincts down tight, certain that Graham will react badly if he asserts his dominance too soon. But it’s fucking difficult when the sweet, struggling thing is shaking and panting needily against him.
Colton inhales and Graham’s scent cloys around him.
Fuck.
It’s dark and sharp. The scent of imbalance clings to him. Colton wants to come all over him, drown the submissive in his come, rub his sweaty body against him, lick his flesh, and remake him into something soft and healthy.
He drags himself back to the current moment. He cannot afford to imagine having Graham. This can still go wrong.
“Thank you. I like you touching me,” Colton offers, keeping his voice low. As if this is a secret between them.
“I don’t even know how.”
How does he sound so insecure? “I could offer a few suggestions?” Colton asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t mind either way. A friendly suggestion the submissive can accept or decline with no guilt.
“Yeah, okay… please.” The “please” is pulled from him, as if he couldn’t keep it back. His lips brush Colton’s neck.
Colton closes his eyes. What the hell are they talking about? “Oh. Uh, my chest or my stomach. Lift my shirt if you want.”
Graham’s head nods up and down, still pressed tight against Colton’s neck. His dry lips press against Colton’s skin more than once.
It isn’t an accident.
“Or my neck. All of the above,” Colton offers, chuckling weakly. He would not object to being groped by the gorgeous beefcake.
Graham’s hand fumbles at Colton’s T-shirt, which is annoyingly tucked into his pants like regulations require. Graham makes a frustrated sound, is so overwhelmed and uncoordinated he’s having trouble with the simple task.
“Can I help?”
“Fuck,fuck. You make me want to say yes,” Graham rasps. He kisses Colton’s neck, drops his hand to Colton’s inner thigh.
Colton jerks his own shirt up, grabs Graham’s hand, and moves it away from his crotch and to his stomach.
He doesn’t need the temptation.
That temptation is too much for Graham and he surrenders all at once. He moans loudly, his mouth opening, and then he’s licking and sucking at Colton’s neck while his hand roams allover Colton’s side, up his chest, between his pecs, and back down again.
As if Colton is a thing, is the submissive who gets groped and had when he’s desired. Colton’s eyes slam shut and he bites his own bottom lip hard, close to drawing blood, but it helps him stay still, focused on the end goal. He endures the onslaught, refuses to seize control.
Colton’s body is convinced this man is about to touch his cock and he’s ready for it.Get me out, honey.It’s the wrong thought. That isn’t what’s happening here. Colton cannot say that, even if that should be the logical conclusion of these touches.
A dropping submissive finds a Dominant they like and uses them to feel better. Takes their cock or their come, their grip or the pain they want to inflict, and everyone leaves happy and healthy.
But that’snotwhat’s about to happen, and Colton needs to fucking remember that.
This isn’t a submissive he can order to touch him or to get down on his knees.
