He bit his lip. “I’m trying to understand something.” His eyes flicked downward again. “I’ve seen dicks before, okay? Locker rooms. Showers. The usual athlete experience.” He shrugged. “To be honest, I always kind of thought they looked a little… weird.”
I blinked.
“Like, I totally understood why people say ‘bumping uglies.’”
I laughed despite myself.
“But now I look at yours,” he said, his voice a little rougher, “and I have to admit… it’s pretty.”
“Pretty?” I repeated.
“Gorgeous, actually.”
“Oh, I think your first instinct was correct,” I informed him. “Dicks are not supposed to be pretty. They are… functional.”
Dean gave a thoughtful hum. “I disagree.” Before I could respond, he traced one finger along the length of my shaft, from root to slit.
The touch sent a shiver through me.
“It’s soft,” he murmured. “Warm. Kind of silky.” He smirked. “And it has a life of its own.”
“It does not.”
At that moment, my dick twitched beneath his hand. Twice.
Dean appeared delighted. “You were saying?”
I glared at him while he tried—and failed—not to laugh. “This is humiliating.”
“No, this isfascinating.”
“You are about three seconds away from naming it.”
Dean’s eyes lit up. “That is agreatidea.”
I stared at him in horror. “Dean.”
“That way I can talk about him in public.” God help him, he seemed fully committed to the insanity now. “People will think I’m discussing a real person.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. And now I need to think of the perfect name.” His grin widened. “Meanwhile, you’ll be standing there knowing I’m actually thinking about all the things I want to do to you once we’re alone.”
I gaped at him. “How did I not see this before?”
“See what?”
“You,” I said. “You are evil.”
Dean laughed. “I’m not evil.” His eyes gleamed. “But Iamabout to be extremely wicked.”
That got my heart beating even harder.
He removed my briefs completely, then lay down beside me, his fingers lazily skimming down my stomach.
I took a moment to burn this into my memory.
The room still smelled of soap from his shower earlier, mixed now with cold Milan air drifting through the cracked-open window. Somewhere out there, traffic hummed through the city, but up here the Olympic Village felt removed from reality.
