Page 22 of Line Change

His eyes stay on mine. Then he opens his mouth and sucks my thumb inside.

Wet heat closes around it. His tongue drags over the pad, slow and deliberate, while his cheeks hollow. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I can see him enjoying the second my control slips.

I’ve never been this hard in my life.

He sucks my thumb deeper, his tongue circling it like he’s showing me what his mouth can do. My cock jerks against my zipper hard enough to hurt. I push my thumb over his tongue once, and his eyes flare. He moans around it.

“Naked,” I remind him when I pull free. My thumb shines with his spit. I rub it across his lower lip before letting him go. “Now.”

He reaches for his shirt. I expect another joke, but he doesn’t make one. He undoes the buttons without looking away from me. His fingers are fast until the third button catches, and then he has to pull it through twice.

I want to do it for him. I keep my hands at my sides.

The shirt opens. Ink curves from the left side of his neck over his shoulder and onto his chest, exactly where I’ve watched it disappear for three weeks. I’ve seen him shirtless in the locker room almost every day since I got here. Here I can stare as long as I want. I can put my hands on him.

Fraser shrugs the shirt off and drops it. His pants follow. He steps out of them, hooks his thumbs into his underwear, and pauses.

“All of it?”

“Did I stutter?”

His nostrils flare. He pushes the underwear down.

His cock springs free, thick and fully hard, slapping up against his stomach. A clear drop gathers at the tip while I stare. His balls hang tight beneath it. Dark hair runs from his navel down around the base, and the ink I haven’t seen before spreads along his ribs and across his right thigh.

I finally know where else he’s tattooed.

Fraser kicks the underwear aside and stands in front of me completely naked. I’m still wearing my suit, even my shoes, and my cock pulses at the sight of him exposed for me.

“Well?” he asks.

I take his left wrist and turn his arm until the sleeve faces me. Up close, I can see every line, the places where black fades into gray, the way the shapes bend around muscle. I inspect it like one of those lines might tell me what the fuck I’m doing here. Then I run my thumb from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. His skin roughens beneath my hand.

“Cold?”

“Not even a little.”

I follow the ink higher. My fingers wrap around his biceps and drag over his shoulder. He stays still for me, but his cock bobs between us every time he breathes.

I’ve spent three weeks wanting to know what the tattoo feels like. It feels like the rest of him, hot, smooth skin stretched over hard muscle. I keep rubbing my thumb over it while I think about putting my mouth on every inch.

I push him back until his shoulders meet the wall. His breath catches when I bend to his neck again. I lick from his collarbone to the place below his ear, taking the same path the water followed in my first dream.

Fraser grips my waist. His fingers dig through my shirt as I suck the ink into my mouth. I feel the low sound he makes against my tongue.

“Fuck, Pope.”

I move down. The tattoo crosses the top of his chest. I trace it with my tongue, then close my mouth over his nipple and suck until it hardens. His hips jerk, and his cock rubs against the front of my pants.

The contact nearly makes me come.

I put a hand on his hip and pin him to the wall. “Stay still.”

“You’re the one with your mouth on me.”

I bite the edge of his pec. His answer breaks apart into a gasp.

“Stay still,” I say again.