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“Oh,” he mutters under his breath at the pink staining my cheeks. “Okay.”
Atlas steps back and hooks his thumbs into the top of his pants and tugs them down. Along with his boxers.
Right. Showers are naked.
There isn’t any arousal left in me after the mess and adrenaline surge, but in Atlas’ words, seeing his thick, soft cock and large balls sway as he kicks the clothes aside gives me one hell of a brain boner. As he switches on the water for the shower and lets it warm up, I take my own boxers off and try not to think of this as awkward.
I literally got off on him earlier, how much more embarrassing can standing under a hot spray naked together be?
Steam fills the small bathroom, fogging the air between us, and when Atlas turns around, something crackles. Maybe I am a romantic, because looking into Atlas’ eyes as they soften like being here with me is something that matters to him… it breaks me open.
I like this man.
It goes beyond attraction. Beyond all the years we’ve known one another. Beyond texts on a screen.
I like him. When he looks at me like that, it feels like maybe he likes me, too.
I reach for him, cupping the sides of his neck and pulling him down to me. He’s pliant as I kiss his willing mouth, relishing in the feel of how his lips move on mine, how they let me guide and never push for more. There’s patience in the kiss, a kind of respect I can never hope to get from one of my hookups.
It reminds me of the feeling I get when Noah and I connect, but bigger. Consuming like a forest fire instead of kindling like a holiday flame.
“What was that for?” Atlas’ lips are marred with bite marks and little purple bruises that have to sting like a motherfucker.
I kiss him again, only once, and memorize the feel of every crack. “For making me feel safe.”
His wraps his hands around to the small of my back and tugs me forward, our bodies coming flush together. Tingles shoot through me as I copy him, lowering my hands to cup his full ass and press his cock more firmly into my hip.
If it bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. He smiles down at me and kisses my cheek. “You’ll always be safe with me.”
My cock twitches. Something about the familiarity, the way I feel protected and warm in his arms making blood flow and flush my whole body. He chuckles and urges me to step back, a curious look on his face that turns to surprise when he glances down.
His eyes flick back up to mine only to fall again. “You’ve got a piercing.” His voice is husky but full of amazement, and he has the cutest smile on his face.
“I do.” I absently stroke my soft cock, rolling both ends of the barbell between my fingers.
He opens his mouth to speak but slams it shut again, heat flooding his cheeks. If he wasn’t staring so blatantly, maybe I wouldn’t know exactly what he’s thinking, but Atlas is like an open book in front of me.
I take his hand and place it over my junk, and he immediately seeks out the piercing, pressing on the head of my dick as his fingers examine the jewelry passing through it. He cups my whole length in his hand, stroking it with a gentle touch and squeezing the tip.
“Does it feel good?” he asks, and when my brow shoots up in a ‘duh’ gesture, he chuckles and firms up his grip, pressing the piercing into his palm. “I mean, does it make sex better?”
“For the people I fuck, sure.” I only rock once into his hand, the drag of his skin on mine like a shot of pure ecstasy. “Feels good when there’s suction around it.”
Atlas pinches the barbell between his fingers, lighting up my nerves as he twists and pushes it around. Then, his hand shifts, and while his thumb drags slowly from one end of the piercing, to my slit, to the other end, he weighs my balls in his palm and drags a slow, deep moan from the back of my throat.
It’s impossible not to get hard under his ministrations, but I try to keep my body still, wanting to let him explore like I promised without pressure.
When he brushes a bead of precum across my tip, I can’t stop another filthy sound from slipping out. He starts stroking up and down my shaft, slow and torturous, until I’m leaking all over myself and into his hand.
There’s no hurry, no intent, just curiosity and awe, and those parted lips shiny with his own spit that I want to take with my mouth until they’re swollen and kiss-bruised.
I’m not usually so easily turned on, especially after already having an orgasm today, so my body reacting so readily to Atlas’ touch is a phenomenon.
“You’re so wet,” he says in a hushed tone like he can’t quite believe it.
I want to tell him that it’s him. That it’s his body, his hands, his words, his voice that puts me in a constant state of arousal, that makes me want to come so badly I can hardly breathe. But his touch is still explorative, nothing close to getting me there no matter how incredible it feels.
I surrender to it. To each gentle caress, to my skin tingling with every stroke. I hardly realize I’ve gone unsteady from the pleasure until Atlas catches the back of my neck in his other hand and presses my face to his chest.
