I push harder, trying to outrun the thoughts.
The path slopes gently upward here, and I lean into it, arms pumping, my legs powering me along. Sweat beads along my hairline and trickles down my back.Good. Let the physical burn chase away the mental one.
But every time I think I’ve got it under control, his face flashes behind my eyes again—those dark eyes locking onto mine, that hint of a smile like he already knew I was his type.Shy. A Little trying so hard to pretend he’s just another boy in the club.
The final stretch of the loop comes into view, the park exit gates glinting ahead. I don’t give myself time to think.
I sprint.Hard.
My lungs burn and my thighs scream, but I push through it, arms slicing the air, feet pounding the gravel like I can leave every inappropriate thought behind me in the dust. By the time I burst through the gates and slow to a walk, I’m gasping, chest heaving, legs shaky. The arousal is still there, simmering under the surface, but the sprint took the edge off.
I walk the rest of the way home at a brisk pace, the city noise gradually swallowing the peaceful quiet of the park. Horns blare, pedestrians weave around me, but I keep my head down and focus on cooling down.
Deep breaths.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
By the time I push open the door to my building, my heart rate has mostly settled.
Inside my apartment, I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks, grateful for the cool tile under my feet. Twist is still waiting right where I left him. I scoop him up and bury my face in his soft fur for a second, letting his familiar scent ground me.
“You wouldn’t believe the thoughts I was having out there, Twist,” I whisper. “Totally inappropriate for a morning jog.”
Twist doesn’t judge. He never does.
I set him back down gently and head straight for the bathroom…
A shower. That’s what I need. Cold water to shock my system back into academic mode.
I strip quickly, leaving my sweaty clothes in a pile by the door, and step under the spray before it even has time to warm up. The chill hits me like a slap, goosebumps erupting across my skin.
Perfect. Exactly what I…
The water hasn’t even soaked through my hair before my traitorous brain conjures him again.
But this time it’s worse.Waaayworse.
I see Kane in my mind’s eye, stepping into the shower behind me, fully clothed at first, dark suit getting soaked as he presses me against the cool tiles. His hands—big, strong, commanding—would slide down my sides, gripping my hips like he owns them. That gravelly voice would murmur right against my ear, “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you, Just William?” And I’d whimper, because yes… yes I have.
My hand moves before I can stop it, trailing down my stomach, over my lightly defined abs. The water is still cold, but my skin feels like it’s on fire. I bite my lip as my fingers dip lower, brushing over the dick that was hard as nails for the best part of my run.
A soft gasp escapes me. I circle slowly at first, eyes fluttering shut as I grab my shaft, imagining it’s his hand instead. Kane’s fingers would be thicker, rougher from whatever work a man like him does. He’d take his time. Tease me until I was begging in that breathy Little voice I only ever use when I feel truly safe.
“Kane…” I whisper to the empty shower, the name tasting forbidden on my tongue. My fingers move faster, sliding up and down.
I picture him watching me, dark eyes hungry, that neat beard brushing my neck as he leans in. “Such a shy boy,” he’d say, and then he’d push his cock inside me without warning, make me scream, make me beg for more.
I’m wanking my cock hard and fast now, and I moan louder than I mean to, the sound echoing off the tiles. My free hand braces against the wall as my knees start to tremble.
I’m so close already.
The tension from the run, the days of trying to forget him—it all coils tight in my belly, ready to snap. My fingers grip harder, faster, chasing that edge. I imagine him growling my name, telling me I’m his good boy, that he’s going to take care of everything if I just let go…
But out of nowhere my phone rings.
The shrill tone cuts through the steam like a fire alarm. I jolt so hard I nearly slip, yanking my hand away like I’ve been caught red-handed.
“Shit!” Water splashes everywhere as I fumble for the faucet, shutting it off with shaking fingers. My body is still humming, frustrated and unfinished, but the moment is shattered.
