I kiss him.
It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. His lips are soft, giving, and he opens for me immediately, tongue sliding against mine, hot and wet and fucking perfect. I groan into his mouth, my hands gripping his waist hard enough to bruise.
Philip’s hands are on the back of my head, his fingers digging into my scalp, nails scraping. He kisses me back just as hard, his teeth nipping at my lower lip, his tongue fucking into my mouth like he’s trying to crawl inside me.
I break the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt the rest of the way off, to toss it aside without caring where it lands. His trousers are next, his belt clinking against the tile, my fingers fumbling in my haste. He kicks off his socks, toes curling against the floor, and then I’m shoving his trousers and boxers down his thighs, dropping to my knees in front of him.
His cock springs free, thick and flushed, a bead of precum dripping from the slit. I don’t think. I just lean in and lick it off, my tongue swiping over the sensitive flesh. Philip hisses, his hands flying to my shoulders, fingers clamping down hard enough to hurt.
“Fuck—Mark—”
I take him into my mouth, shallow at first, just the head, my tongue working the underside. His taste floods my senses. Salt and musk and something uniquelyhim—and my own cock aches, trapped in my jeans. But this isn’t about me. Not yet.
Philip’s thighs tremble as I take him deeper, my lips sealing around the base of his shaft. His hands are cupping the back of my head, twisting, pulling, like he can’t decide whether to push me away or drag me closer. I hollow mycheeks, my throat opening as I take him to the root, and he makes a broken sound, his hips jerking forward.
“Gonna come,” he gasps, his voice raw. “Mark, I’m gonna—”
I pull off with a wet pop, my chin glistening. “Not yet,” I tell him, standing up. My hands go to my own shirt, yanking it over my head, the fabric sticking to my damp skin. Philip’s eyes rake over me, over the tattoos covering my chest, my arms, the way my muscles shift beneath the ink. His gaze lingers on the bulge in my jeans, and he licks his lips, his own cock twitching like it’s begging for attention.
“Your turn,” he says, his voice rough.
I don’t argue.
My belt comes undone with a sharpsnik, the leather sliding through the loops of my jeans. Philip’s watching me like a man starved, his chest rising and falling fast, his fingers twitching at his sides like he’s itching to touch. I kick off my trainers, then my jeans, my boxers, until I’m as naked as he is.
His eyes drop to my cock.
I’m hard as fuck, thick and heavy, the veins standing out along the shaft, the head dark red and leaking. Philip’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and then he’s on his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs.
“Philip—”
He doesn’t let me finish. His mouth wraps around the head of my cock, his tongue swirling over the slit, and my hips jerk forward before I can stop them. His lips seal around me, taking me deep, and the wet heat of his mouth isfucking incredible. I groan, my hands flying to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft blond strands.
He works me slow at first, his tongue tracing every vein, every ridge, like he’s memorizing me. Then his pace picks up, his head bobbing, his throat opening as he takes me deeper. The sounds he makes—wet, obscene, hungry—go straight to my balls, and I can feel the orgasm building, coiling tight at the base of my spine.
“Fuck, Philip, just like that—”
He pulls off with a filthy pop, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with lust. “Shower,” he pants. “Now.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
The water pounds down on us, rivulets streaming over my skin, over the ink, and Philip’s hands are everywhere—my chest, my stomach, my thighs—like he can’t decide where to touch first.
I turn around, my back hitting the cold tile, and then he’s on me.
His mouth crashes into mine, his tongue fucking past my lips, his teeth nipping, biting. I groan into the kiss, my hands gripping his ass, pulling him flush against me. Our cocks slide together, trapped between our bodies, the friction maddening, but not enough. Philip’s nails are scraping over my scalp, and I can feel the way his body trembles, the way his breath comes in sharp, desperate gasps.
“Need you,” he pants against my lips. “Need—fuck—”
I huff a laugh, and my hands find his waist without conscious decision. His skin is slick beneath my palms, warmer than the water. I can feel the soft give of his belly, the way his breath catches when my thumbs trace the curve of his hips.
My cock hardens further, pressing against the soft skin below his navel. His own dick stirs against my thigh, thickand warm even in the heated spray. We stand there, breathing, the moment stretching like pulled sugar.
"Mark." My name in his mouth sounds different here. More vulnerable.
"Yeah."
He doesn't finish the thought. Instead, his hips shift. A small movement, barely a fraction of an inch, but it brings our cocks together. The contact sends a jolt through my spine. I grip his hips tighter, steadying us both, and feel his fingers dig into my shoulders in response.
