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I turn to leave, realizing this is the worst idea ever. What started as fun flirting has turned into something that’s going to be hard for me to get over. The longer I stick around, the worse it’s going to be for me.
“I don’t think I’ve seen the ink on your back.”
I stop in my tracks, looking back over my shoulder.
Alex stands in the center of the shower stall, water still rushing over every part of his body, including his erect cock.
“You seemed lost in thought,” I say stupidly. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
He rolls his shoulders. “Worked all day. My muscles are stiff.”
“That’s all?”
He chuckles. “Isn’t that enough?”
I grin at the playfulness in his tone.
“I’m shit at massages,” I say.
“Let me be the judge of that,” he says, holding open the glass door in invitation.
Steam swirls around him, and I’m frozen at the sight of him not distorted by a wall of glass.
“You’re fucking magnificent,” I say before I can stop myself.
“I’m getting cold,” he counters. “Are you going to join me?”
Somehow, I walk rather than run to the shower. My balls are heavy, just imagining the things we can get up to in here.
Like he did in the hallway, Alex is the one to lean forward, instigating the kiss. When he wraps his arms around me, I grab one wrist and move his hand to the front of my body, locking my fingers over his as he grips my cock.
He groans, the sound filling my mouth, and I swallow down his pleasure at touching me.
I have to shift on my feet, the neediness in my body urging me to move faster than I think he’s willing to go.
It’s thoughts of him falling to his knees that make me drop to mine. I turn my face up, uncaring of the water rushing down on me as I watch him.
Awe fills every feature of his face, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as I sweep my tongue out over the head of his cock. His hips jerk forward, his dick gliding over my cheek.
I want to take my time, catalog every grunt and groan, memorize the saltiness of his precum and the exact shape of his cockhead as it glides over my tongue. But Alex is eager for my offering, using two fingers to press down on the root of his shaft to get a better angle into my mouth.
I’d laugh at his impatience if it weren’t for the same need swimming through my blood.
I press my palms to his thighs, using them for balance as I take him to the back of my throat.
He doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t tangle his fingers in my hair or try to gag me in his pursuit of release. He doesn’t say filthy things or beg for more. He isn’t exactly silent either. Awe and wonder fill the air around me with his pants and groans of satisfaction.
A sharp intake of air and the tensing of his thighs is the only warning I get, but I doubt I would’ve pulled off even if he managed to vocalize his impending orgasm.
A wave of salty heat hits my tongue and I don’t hesitate to swallow, continuing to suck him down until he takes a step back.
His eyes are glossy, his mouth a tiny smile hitched up only in one corner as I stand.
I press my lips to his, wondering when he freezes for a split second if he’s going to shove me away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tasted his own cum, but this could be seen as a little different from the times before.
But then his lips move, his tongue sweeping over mine, another ball-tightening moan on his lips.
“That’s so wrong,” he whispers against my lips.
“You like it,” I challenge, dipping my tongue back into his mouth.
“More than I should,” he confesses, his hand tilting my head to the side to give him deeper access to my mouth.
“I think you’re filthier than you let on,” I say, licking at my lips when he pulls his head back.
“I’m sure I have nothing on some of the men you’ve been with.”
I want to challenge him, explain that somehow nothing I’ve ever done in the past even compares to what doing this with him feels like, but then his hand is on my shaft, a slow, teasing stroke up the length of me, and it makes me incapable of speech.
Chapter 21
Boomer
I feel like a crazed animal, as if I’m on the outside, watching what’s happening in the shower rather than actively participating in it. I’m not exactly happy with the dissociation, but it does allow me to act in a way I’d be too self-conscious to act otherwise.
I watch his face, obsessed with the way his jaw hinges open when I stroke down his shaft, letting my index finger run over his sac on the downward motion.
