“This is bad idea,” I managed. But my hips rolled down, answering. Grinding back.
“Probably.” His thumb traced my jawline. “But you're still here. Still hard. Still grinding your cock against me.”
I was. God help me, I was. My cock throbbed, pressed thick and aching against his. I could feel every inch of him. Could feel how hard he was. How wet.
“We should stop.”
“Should we?” His voice dropped. Dangerous. His hips rolled again, harder. Deliberate. Dragging his cock against mine in a slow grind that made my vision blur. “Because it feels like you want to keep going. Feels like your cock is about to burst.”
It was. Pre-come leaked, making my briefs stick. Making each grind slicker. Easier.
His hand slid from my jaw into my hair, fingers tightening. Painful now. Controlling. His other hand gripped my hip, nails digging in through fabric.
“Move,” he commanded. “Grind that cock against me. Show me how badly you want this.”
The order broke something in me. My hips rolled hard, grinding my cock against his. The friction was perfect. Maddening. His cock was thick and hot even through layers of fabric.
“Fuck,” he groaned. His legs tightened around my waist, ankles locking behind me. Trapping me. “Harder.”
I ground down harder. Faster. Lost in the friction. Lost in the heat of him. Lost in the sounds he made. Small gasps and bitten-off groansthat went straight to my cock.
“That's it,” he breathed. “Fuck, Viktor. Your cock feels so good.”
My hips pistoned, grinding against him in short, hard thrusts. My cock dragged against his, the friction building, building, building.
His nails dug deeper into my hip. His hand in my hair yanked my head down, forcing me to look at him. To watch his face as we ground together like animals.
“I'm going to come,” he warned. Voice wrecked.
“Do it,” I growled. Couldn't stop myself. “Come. Let me feel it.”
His back arched. His cock jerked against mine. I felt it pulse, felt warmth spread as he came. His mouth opened on a silent cry, eyes rolling back, whole body going rigid.
The sight of him coming undone destroyed me. My cock jerked, pleasure slamming through me as I came hard. Filling my briefs. Making a mess. Still grinding against him through the aftershocks.
We stayed like that. Breathing hard. Pressed together. Both covered in sweat and come and the evidence of what we'd done.
His legs slowly loosened. Released me. His hands slid from my hair and hip, falling to the mat beside his head.
I pushed up. Off him. Put distance between us before I did something stupid like kiss him.
We both sat there. Breathing hard. Not looking at each other.
My briefs were soaked. Sticky. My cock still half-hard, sensitive against wet fabric. His shorts showed a dark stain. Large. Obvious.
“I need to shower,” he said finally. Voice rough. Raw. He stood, didn't bother hiding the wet stain. “Before dinner.”
He grabbed his gear and walked toward the changing rooms without looking back. Without another word.
I stayed on the mat. Hands shaking. Cock aching. Briefs ruined.
What the fuck had we just done.
I forced myself to stand. To walk back to my quarters on unsteady legs. To peel off clothes that reeked of sex and desperation.
The cold water didn't help. Didn't wash away the memory of his body under mine. The sounds he'd made. The way he'd commandedme to grind harder. The way he'd come with my cock pressed against his.
When I closed my eyes, I felt it all again. His legs around my waist. His hand in my hair. His cock pulsing against mine as he came.
