His arm moves. His breath hitches.
I peer down to see his hand wrapped around his semi-hard cock. He’s cut, his length curving upward, the head already turning a violent purple. Instinct screams at me to look away immediately. I shouldnotbe watching another man jerk off inches in front of me, close enough that we’re sharing the same humid air.
But my gaze is locked on.
He grows harder under my stare, and…
So do I.
Mercifully, my eyes finally obey and snap back to his. His face is flushed, full lips parted as he pants, tiny moans escaping with every twist of his palm around the head of his cock.
There’s something about him that’s been slowly and steadily carving away at the reality I thought I knew. A month ago, I never would’ve gotten hard in a situation like this. At least, I don’t think I would’ve. But over the course of the half dozen or so showers I’ve supervised, I’ve caught myself staring more and more. And more.
There was also that one time I caught him jerking off in his room on camera. Itriedto ignore him and focus on work. I really did. But…I watched instead.
I shove the gun a little harder under his chin because my dick is pressing against my zipper and I’m pissed about it. He whimpers, and that doesnothelp.
“Are youtryingto make me develop a conditioned response to holding a gun to your head?”
He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t mind.”
It’s official. Cason Bellrose is going to be the death of me.
Or at least of everything I thought I knew was true.
“Well aren’t you a kinky fucking menace?” I move the gun, brushing it over his cheek before trailing it down the column of his throat. “You should be afraid of me.”
“Oh, I am,” he says with a shaky nod as if in confirmation. “I’m terrified.”
A beat. He swallows, his throat working against the metal.
“But not for the reasons you think.”
My control frays another inch.
He’s shaking so badly, his body trembling between me and the wall like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. The barrel of the gun travels lower, over his collarbone, down his chest. I let my eyes follow its trail, taking in the sight of his smooth, pale skin still glistening with beads of water.
“Come on, Reese,” he pleads as he continues working his fist over his cock, his snarky, confident grin starting to shine past the fear. “You could at least let me come before you shoot me.”
The gun meets his nipple in a slow, caressing circle, and I watch, mesmerized, as it turns into a firm peak. His thick lashes flutter against his cheeks, and he arches his back into the touch of the weapon.
“Fuck,” he moans. “I think you should touch me too. I don’t want to die curious.”
Something inside me snaps.
The rest of the world narrows to heat, steam, and the way his eyes go wide when my gun moves lower and lower and lower…
His hand falls away, leaving his cock jutting up with a pearl of precum sitting prettily at his tip. I sweep the black metal of my gun across his head, collecting the drop before bringing it up in front of his face.
It’s as if he knows what I want him to do before I know myself. My body is making decisions before my brain is able to catch up.
Sticking out his tongue, he brushes it across the side of the barrel, licking up his own precum. He may be my prisoner, but his gaze holdsmehostage in this moment. My cock throbs, my chest heaves. The steam from the shower has thinned, but the glass fogs worse than before from our hot, panting breaths.
Again, I lower the gun, this time skimming the barrel up the underside of his shaft. I can’t help but look, bending my head down for the best view. He leans forward too, his forehead coming to rest against mine as we both watch the weapon glide up and down his length, black steel moving over veins. My own dick should not be getting harder at the sight, but I swear it’s about to burst through my zipper.
He rolls his hips, rubbing his cock against the gun. Little noises slip from his lips and fill my ears, my brain, in a way Idon’t think I’ll ever get rid of.
I’m not so sure I want to.
