I pout. “But I just killed a bunch of people.”
“And?”
“Maybe I want to be the one pounding your ass into the mattress,” I say, quite reasonably.
True’s grin spreads wide across his face. “Flip fucking for the win, bay-bee.”
I lean in to kiss him, and he pulls away.
“What’s happening?” I ask, desperate to get this show on the road.
“I threw up in the field. I need something more than the mint your cousin gave me.” He then sniffs his armpit and wrinkles his nose. “And probably take a shower.”
Frustrated, but now a little grossed out, I drag him into the bathroom, shoving my mouthwash into his hands.
“Double rinse,” I demand.
“I kind of like this bossy version of you,” he says before swishing the mouthwash. He rinses his mouth out with water, then mouthwash, then water again.
The second he screws the cap back on, we go after each other like animals, teeth and lips clashing as we kiss and hump against each other. Truett throws his arms around me, squeezing me tight as he shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we fall against the bathroom door, ravenous.
A cracking sound startles us, and Truett pulls his hand away. Most of the polymer has cracked off from the force of being knocked against the door, and he’s easily able to remove what’s left.
His eyes go wide as he forms a fist and then straightens out his fingers. Remembering Maya’s joke, I examine the back of his hand. All of his tattoos seem to be in order.
“How does your hand feel?”
“Better than it has in a very long time,” he says, stillclenching and releasing his fist. “It’s usually a little sore, especially after a day of using the trimmer.”
I’m impressed, and I definitely have questions, but…priorities.
“We’ll explore what this means later, but right now, I need your skin,” I say, pulling at his T-shirt.
It’s all well and good to rip each other’s clothes off, but far more efficient for us to handle our own business, so we get down to it. We’re naked seconds later, then stepping under the hot water.
“Fuck, True. Your body is unreal,” I say, running my hands over his well-defined, thick muscles.
He’s kissing me, nipping at my jaw. “I could say the same thing.”
We make out and rut against each other as the steam builds around us. My orgasm is right there, and I grunt against his lips, “I’ve got more than one in me.”
“Me too.”
We groan, bucking and sucking face until the heat blooms between us. My orgasm is fast and harsh enough to make my balls ache, but I am nowhere near done with this man.
Thankfully, though, it takes the edge off the desperation, and we go back to making out with each other under multiple showerheads.
“Let’s get cleaned off and move this to the bed,” he says after several more minutes, his voice wrecked.
“Agreed.”
I soap up while he washes his hair, then we switch. There will be other days, other showers where we can be romantic and take our time, but that’s not what this night is about. My cock is already rock hard again and my nuts are tight against my body. He’s in the same situation.
We step out of the shower, barely toweling off before racing out of the bathroom. True takes in my room, which is large andfull of fun details, like my collection of boy band memorabilia, the photographs of the cousins at Pride festivals all over the world, and my collection of aesthetically pleasing, yet abandoned hobbies.
Truett wanders, still gloriously naked, to my privacy window. Looking out over the city, he lets out a low whistle.
“Nice view.”
