My fingers tighten in his hair.
“Keep it quiet. Someone could still walk in.”
“Yes.”
I put my hand in his wet hair.
I guide him onto me.
He's better than he was on Friday. His mouth opens wider. His tongue knows where to go. His hand is steady on the base of me. He looks up at me once and I almost lose the plot, because his eyes in this light under this water are a green I don't have names for, and his mouth is full of me and he is looking at me like he is going to put his whole life in my hand if I let him.
I don't let him.
Not yet.
I fuck his mouth like I fucked his throat on Friday. Slow, then less slow. My hand is in his hair and I use that to control his movements. Water runs down my arms. His eyes stream. His chin streams. He doesn't pull back. He doesn't tap. He does what I taught him to do. He's a good student. He's my good student. The sentence is in my head now in a way it wasn't before.Mine mine mine.
“Fuck, Theo.”
“Mm.”
“Look at you.”
I'm not going to last. I didn't come Saturday. I didn't come Sunday. I came in his mouth Friday and nowhere since. I've been saving. I'm going to give him all of it.
“I'm going to come down your throat, sweetheart. You swallow. All of it. You walk into lunch with your dad with my come in your stomach.”
His throat works. His hand tightens at the base. His eyes don't leave mine.
“Good fucking boy.”
I come.
I come in his mouth. The water takes what his mouth can't hold. His throat is working at the base of me. He's swallowing. I'm leaning against the tile with one hand because my knees are doing a thing my knees haven't done in a decade. I say it again because I want him to hear it.
“Good boy.”
He sits back on his heels.
Water runs over his face. He wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. His mouth is swollen. He's going to have to do something about the mouth before lunch with his father. I will tell him. I will tell him how to hold it.
I pull him up.
I kiss him.
I kiss him hard. I taste myself in his mouth and I don't care. He tastes me in his mouth and doesn't care. He puts his hands flat on my chest and he kisses me back, and I think, in the part of my head that is still working,Phoenix was right. The exit is closed. There is no going back through that door.
I pull off.
I put my mouth at his ear.
“You smell like my soap. You smell like my hands. You taste like me in your mouth. You feel me in your body. You're gonna carry this to lunch. You understand me?”
“Yes.”
My mouth drags along his jaw.
“You understand who you belong to this week?”
