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“Corwin.” I groan, maintaining my steady pace, knees digging into the mattress as I drive my pelvis against his ass.
He tilts his hips back up and I sink into him further, his uneven breathing peppered with harsh gasps every time I brush across his prostate. A drop of sweat trickles down his cheek from his hairline and I lean forward to lick it away, wishing I could reach his stomach to lap up his cum instead. Release is steadily building inside me and my body naturally tries to pick up the pace. I contain the urge, sustaining my sedate pace. Below me, Corwin has lost all composure, body straining toward mine and teeth digging into his lower lip. He looks wrung out, hair damp with sweat and pleasure darkening his eyes.
I come inside of him, eyes never leaving his face as he tips his chin up and gasps softly.
Neither of us stop moving right away, bodies continuing their slow grind before coming to a natural halt. I realize my fingers are tight where my hand has been cupping the back of his head, and hastily relax them. Before I can even think about pulling away, Corwin snakes his arm over my back and applies just enough pressure to get me to relax down against him. Dropping my head to the crook of his neck, I work on catching my breath.
The room is silent but for the sound of our mutual panting. I worry that he can’t breathe properly with me lying heavily on top of him like this, but the arm holding me down says it’s a non-issue.
“Nigel.” He says, softly, in a tone heavy with emotion. I know exactly what he means.
We stay there, contentment practically oozing from our pores. I can feel his release where our bodies are pressed together, and the longing to run my tongue over it nearly has me pulling out of his embrace.
He lets out an incredulous exhale. “So, that’s how it feels every time?”
My heart thumps painfully against his own while I consider what he’s asking. “No,chéri, no. It has never felt like that.”
I’m still inside him, dick soft. His body is a warm, comfortable heat around me, and I have half a mind to remain lodged inside him until I can get hard again, already ready to go for a second round. With my face against his neck, Corwin barely has to turn his head to rest his cheek against my hair. He doesn’t speak, but I feel him press his mouth to the top of my head. After a few more minutes I lift off him, partially. He gives me just enough space to see his face before he tightens his arm, and prevents me from moving further.
“We should get cleaned up.” I say, a touch of regret coloring my tone.
“Alright.” He slides his arms off, dropping them to the bed.
I pull out of him carefully, heading into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Corwin follows, stepping around me to turn the shower on. I watch him carefully, looking for any signs of discomfort. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, but for right now he appears okay. Happy, even, if that small smile is any indication.
“Do you want to go first?” He asks, politely.
“Yeah.” I grab his wrist as I step into the shower, tugging him in with me.
He’d already set the water temperature to hot, so I take a moment to just stand under the stream. I’ve still got ahold of Corwin’s arm, so I use it to bring him against me. Obligingly, he wraps his free arm around my waist and props his chin onto my shoulder. When I open my eyes, I can see a steady stream of water droplets skittering down his back. Stepping away, I reach for the body wash. When I start cleaning Corwin, rubbing circles into the tops of his shoulders before trailing down his chest, he jolts.
“You’re a mess.” I tease, wiping the cum off his stomach with gentle strokes.
The soap suds drip slowly down his body, trailing over his abs and down his muscled legs. Following the path with my eyes, I note that he’s sporting a semi. When he sees me noticing, he grins.
“Shower sex?” He suggests, making me laugh. I run my sudsy hands down over his flanks.
“I don’t think my knees could handle shower sex.” I look down at the hard tile floor and wince. “Although, maybe we could keep a yoga mat in here for just such occasions.”
“Good idea.” He says, earnestly. I laugh harder, the sound echoing through the open space of the bathroom. I pull him forward by the nape of his neck, skin slick beneath my fingers, and kiss him.
“Your turn.” He tells me, and grabs the shampoo instead of the body wash. I start to turn around, but he stops me with a hand on the shoulder. Rubbing his palms together, he reaches up and places both hands on my head. He cards his fingers into the strands, firming his grip and tipping my face up toward the ceiling. “Close your eyes.” He murmurs.
Eyes closed, I focus on the feel of his fingers. He’s massaging the shampoo tenderly into my scalp; wet, soapy strands of hair sliding between his fingers. It feels so good I nearly purr like a cat. Keeping one hand in my hair, he uses the other to guide me backward until my head is directly under the showerhead. He continues massaging as the water rinses away the soap.
“Can you do this every time I wash my hair?” I mutter, and he chuckles.
“Alright, you can open your eyes for a second.”
He standing close, so the first thing I see is blue eyes and wet brown hair plastered to his forehead. His eyelashes are clumped together with moisture and tiny rivulets of water are running down his face and catching in his lips. He reaches for the conditioner, squirting some into his palm. I close my eyes again, tipping my head back.
By the time we’re crawling back into bed, both of us have started feeling the effects of the evening. Corwin, in particular, looks exhausted. The faint blue tinge of the skin beneath his eyes has become more pronounced the later it gets. Since we’ve passed the point where propriety was needed, I don’t bother with boxers. Corwin, of course, opts for sleeping fully clothed. Though I notice that he chose to grab the undershirt I was wearing all night, instead of one of the buttery soft tees he usually sleeps in. Lying on my side watching him, I smile into the pillow.
He sets an alarm on his phone, several hours before we’ll be due for practice in the morning. As he’s on it, I see a text come through, though I can’t see who it’s from.
“Troy.” He says, smiling as he taps out a reply. “Wants to know how everything went.”
Something occurs to me then. “Does he know? About your dad?”
