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He broke me off by crushing his lips to mine, pulling me close again and kissing me over and over. He was unrelenting, and after a minute of aggressive kisses I started to laugh, and then he did, too. We were reduced to a hot, sweaty pile of laughter and insanity, and somehow it was the sweetest thing I’d felt in years.
Finally he relaxed again, staring at me with wild eyes. “No apologizing for things that are crazy hot,” he said. “Now come rinse off with me.”
He was across the room in another moment, heading over to the bathroom and turning on the shower.
13
Evan
Only thing better than getting filthy with my favorite person is getting squeaky clean with him, right afterward.
And then maybe filthy again.
And again.
As many times as he’ll let me.
“You know I always wondered what your cock looked like,” Mitch said as we stepped out of the shower.
Christ.
“And I’d always wondered how soon I could get hard again, after coming,” I said, pointing down at my dick. “Apparently, like, two seconds flat, with you. And now I know you’re a master of dirty talk, apparently.”
“It’s not dirty talk,” Mitch said, grabbing a fresh towel from the rack and handing it to me. “I’m serious. I mean, I wasn’t a total weirdo. I wasn’t thinking about your dick all the time or anything. But I’d… wondered. How it might be different or similar to mine.”
“Well, it definitely isn’t quite as… big. Or thick. Fuck,” I muttered, looking down at my now fully erect cock again. I wrapped the plush towel around my body, drying off and raking the towel through my hair.
Mitch was still just standing there, fully naked, dripping wet. A pool of water was forming on the tile beneath him, but he seemed caught in a daze as he watched me. I couldn’t help but notice he was at least half-hard again already, too.
“You… you want a towel, too?” I asked softly, grinning at him.
“Right. Yes,” he said, snapping back to reality. He padded out into the hallway and returned a moment later with a towel slung around his waist.
“Obviously I wondered the same thing,” I said. “But I never would have told you that, in a million years.”
“Why not?” he asked.
I gave him my best duh stare. “Because I was gay and you weren’t,” I said. “Do you have any idea how many things I didn’t mention because I just… never wanted you to think I was being weirdly attracted to you?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I would have just taken it as a compliment.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I let it slide. After Mitch had toweled off, he retreated to his bed, lying back and stretching out.
Unfair as hell. Even just the sight of him stretching that impossibly gorgeous body was irresistible. He was frequently so unaware of how hot he really was. Mitch was proud of his body, to be sure, but he thought of it more as an instrument than eye candy. He liked being able to lift heavy things. He liked being useful. He had no conception of the fact that women and men alike were drooling over him everywhere he went.
Kind of like I was doing right now, standing in the doorway between his bathroom and his bedroom.
“Get over here, weirdo,” he said, nodding at the empty expanse of bed next to him.
I ran my towel through my hair one more time before obliging him. I lay out on my stomach next to him, and immediately he sidled up to me and smacked my ass with an open palm.
“Hey!” I protested, giving him a shove.
“You know you liked it,” he said, shoving me back.
“I loved it, and yes, I love being spanked in general, and Jesus, God, that is apparently a thing you know about me now, but still,” I said. I leaned over, biting his shoulder.
“Ow,” he protested.
“Dish it out, and you better be prepared to take it,” I said.
“You think I’m not prepared to take it?” he said, leaning over me, pushing my shoulder back so that I was lying on my side, and dipping to catch my lower lip between his teeth. He tugged at it and then kissed me hard. He dragged his fingertips down my arm and landed on my hip, and somehow over the course of the next few seconds, the kiss turned from a joking confrontation into a slow, sensual make-out session.
If my seventeen-year-old self could see me now, naked and making out with Mitch, he’d have come so hard his damn dick would break. Fuck, for all I knew, that still might happen to me.
Mitch broke away and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in to nestle against his shoulder.
“There we go,” he said, stroking his hand on my shoulder. “I like you here. Now stay.”
