“Oh?”
“I'd be lying if I…”
Through the phone, I can hear movement in the water.
My mind drifts to that hint of trimmed hair I saw above his…
“If you what?” Marco nudges.
“If I told you that talking to you while you're naked doesn't arouse the fuck out of me.”
“It does?” he teases. “I'm so sorry.”
“You're not sorry,” I smirk. “You want me begging for it.”
“Who me?”
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
And I submit willingly.
“You love it when my dick is hungry for you.”
For a moment neither of us speak.
But I can hear his breath grow heavier with each tick of the clock.
“And is it?” he asks. “Hungry for me?”
Always. Both day and night.
“You know it is,” I whisper.
Straddling the back of the couch, I grind myself slowly into it.
The same friction I felt between my legs when we were making out in the supply room.
A subtle moan in my ear suggests that somebody's hands have ventured beneath the bath water.
“Come for a swim with me,” Marco implores. “It's not that late. South Bank is open until midnight.”
The thought of holding him in the water, nothing but a thin piece of lycra between us, is enough to tighten my grip on the cushions.
“Meet you under the arches in thirty minutes,” I say.
???
Warm air hovers thick, as city lights scatter reflective sparks along the river.
The pool is smooth at this end, only a few swimmers dotted along the shallows.
Plenty of shadowy corners to explore.
Marco is already there, perched casually on a low tree branch.
“Only had me waiting three minutes this time,” he says playfully. “You're getting better at this punctuality thing.”
“My motives weren't entirely pure,” I shrug.
