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I’d imagined it before, when I was younger, and I had a stupid crush on him, but now I couldn’t stop adding in the way he smelled, the small details that were inherently him. Like the faint lines next to his eyes that deepened every time he laughed, or the way he looked first thing in the morning in my kitchen. He’d shuffle in, stubble on his jaw, sleep rumpled, wearing low-slung sleep pants and a thin cotton shirt, looking sexy as hell as he poured himself a coffee. And I wanted him so damn bad I could barely stand it.
But after last night? I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d tortured myself enough.
After a night spent tossing and turning, I finally gave up and trudged to the shower. Maybe that would distract me. Stripping down, I groaned as the memory of his lips on mine flashed in my mind.
“Pull it together, Killian.”
I stood under the spray of hot water in my shower, praying my hard on would go away because I couldn’t take being around him in this constant state of need. He might not feel the same way, but it didn’t change the fact that I wanted him. He’d made it clear there wasn’t anything between us. The man had gone to great lengths in fact, but last night, I heard his grunts through the wall separating us. I tried to tune it out, but they were impossible to ignore. I knew damn well what they meant. Of course he was rubbing one out. It was perfectly natural, especially since it wasn’t like he’d found anyone to help him relieve the tension.
I should have been the bigger person and put on my noise-canceling headphones rather than sit there in my bed and listen. But knowing that’s what he was doing and asking me to tune it out was like asking a drug addict to turn down his next fix. Nearly impossible. And apparently, I was weak as fuck.
I’d gone to bed with a cock so hard, every time my sheets rubbed against it, I was hissing in agony. Finally giving up, I’d popped my earbuds in and cranked the latest episode of my favorite podcast in hopes of distracting myself. I refused to let myself lie there like a fucking weirdo voyeur. If I heard him coming, there was no way I’d have gotten through the night without knocking on his door and asking if he needed any help.
Stepping into the shower, thinking about what he’d looked like with his fist wrapped around his length.
“You’re not a creep at all. Real hero-level stuff, buddy,” I muttered to myself as I lathered up my hair, then rinsed out the shampoo. Using the anti-fog shower mirror Sera had gotten me for Christmas, I shaved my face clean. Attempting to distract myself by washing myself more thoroughly than I ever had, but unfortunately for me, my dick did not want to be distracted.
I closed my eyes and pressed one palm against the tile wall while I finally let myself reach for my aching cock. As soon as I made contact, I let out an almighty groan.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”
In my head, Jameson was touching me. In my stupid, weak mind, the man was caressing me and making me his. I was fucking desperate as I stroked my cock, slowly squeezing at the base, then twisting as I got to the head. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I pictured him pushing me down on the bed, opening me up, spreading my ass, and working two lubed fingers inside.
He’d let out a dark chuckle as he watched me with a wicked smirk. Jesus, the things I’d let his mouth do to me if I had the chance. My skin was hot and tight. Every inch of me tingling on the edge of my climax. But I couldn’t get there, no matter how much I tried.
Reaching down with my other hand, I fondled my balls, tugged and twisted them. My fingers slipped along my taint before tracing the rim of my ass.
“Come on,” I whimpered, desperate for release.
I could hear his deep, smoky voice in my ear, but I wanted it to be real. I needed it.
“Fuck, Jameson. Goddamn it.”
My hand wasn’t going to be enough. Finally, I gave up, left the shower running, and got out before yanking open the cupboard under the sink where my very special and most favorite toy waited for me.
I coated the dildo with a healthy dose of lube, then mounted it to the tiles. I hadn’t used this in a long time, but I knew it would give me what I needed. Something to take the edge off. Something I could pretend was him without feeling like I was crossing the line. Except, of course, picturing him at all was obliterating any lines we’d drawn. I closed my eyes again and let the vision of Jameson work its way back to the forefront of my mind as my lubed-up fingers sank inside my tight, desperate hole. I fucking whimpered with each slow thrust of my fingers.
When I was ready, I lined myself up with the dildo, pressing my opening against the slick silicone and letting the memory of Jameson’s lips on mine have free rein in my mind. I arched my back, and my legs trembled as the fake dick filled me slowly. The stretch and burn was almost too much.
“Yes, baby. Please. Fuck.” I cried out a garbled moan as my prostate lit up like a damn Christmas tree when the toy hit me just right. Reaching between my legs, I stroked my hard cock once, twice, three times, in rhythm with the rocking of my hips. Precum leaked from my tip, and my balls tightened with the urge to come.
“God, Jameson. God, fuck yes. Fuck me, baby.” My orgasm slammed into me as I took the toy deep and grunted in blinding pleasure.
Breaths coming in heavy pants, I rode out my climax, eyes rolling back in my head and euphoria buzzing in my blood.
It wasn’t the same as having Jameson, but it was all I had. I certainly wasn’t going to chase this feeling with anyone else. I was better off alone anyway. I’d made myself a promise to keep business and pleasure separate, and that’s exactly what I planned to do.
I couldn’t look him in the eyes when I found him downstairs waiting for me with a mug of hot coffee in his hands, and his lyric book open on the kitchen counter.
“How was your shower?” he asked, lifting his cup to his lips.
“What?” My voice cracked as I forced the question through a tight throat.
“Your shower? Did you have enough hot water? I didn’t use it all up?”
“Oh, uh, no. It was fine. Nice and hot.” My cheeks burned as a flush crept across them.
“There’s coffee in the carafe there for you. I didn’t know when you’d be down, so I wasn’t going to pour you a cup and risk it getting cold.”
