He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then we both looked down at the erection tenting the fly of his slacks, the dark wet spot bleeding through the fabric.
“You taste as good as I knew you would,” he said.
“That was…thank you.”
The tip of his tongue darted out, either worrying the corner of his mouth or licking the taste of me away, I wasn’t certain.
“You never have to thank me for that.” Marshall climbed off the bed and finished undressing, the sight of his hard cock almost enough to bring mine back to life on sight. “It might be my new favorite way to reward you.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
“As much as I would like to tie you spreadeagle to this bed now and fuck you until I can’t even remember my own name, I did say your new job deserved a celebration.”
“Consider myself celebrated.” I scooted to an upright position, then onto my knees.
“I want to take you to dinner.”
“Are you asking?”
Marshall made a very unimpressed sound in the back of his throat. “Not in the slightest. Come clean off with me and then get dressed.”
My legs wobbled when I stood, but Marshall held out his hand to me and helped me to the shower. He washed us both with a surgical precision, paying no more attention than necessary to my half-hard cock. After rinsing, he toweled us both off and instructed me to get dressed in something nice.
I still didn’t have many clothes at his house, but I’d gone home earlier in the day to get a few things because I was at Marshall’s more often than not. Doing the best I could with apair of black slacks and a white button-up, I sat down on the edge of the bed to deal with my socks and shoes.
After I was dressed, Marshall emerged from the closet in a pair of navy slacks and a pastel pink button-up. He was busy fussing with the cuffs, his feet bare and his hair still damp from the shower.
“Silas,” he said, not looking up. “Get my socks and shoes from the closet.”
He’d already set out a pair of dark blue socks and brown oxfords, and I brought both things into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed in the place I’d earlier occupied, his legs spread and his hands resting comfortably on the tops of his thighs. He didn’t even have to ask. He simply extended one of his feet toward me, and immediately I went to my knees.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Hmn?” I looked up at him, rucking up the sock to get it onto his foot easier. He had big feet with long toes, smooth knuckles with a dusting of dark hair on the first two.
“Your brow.” He reached forward and stroked his finger up from my nose toward my forehead.
“Nothing.” I relaxed my face and quickly shook my head to clear it. “I just…didn’t know this was something I liked before you.”
“Maybe you didn’t like it before me. Maybe this is something special just for us.”
There was a lot more to unpack with that comment than I think he realized, and as I put his other sock on and loosened the laces of his shoes, I thought hard about it. I knew people like that, who were only into things with their current—or former—partner. Feet weren’t something I’d ever even thought of before Marshall, but as I slipped one foot into its respective shoe and then the other, I didn’t imagine I’d think of them after him either.
I didn’t want there to be anafterMarshall.
“There you go again,” he said softly, reaching for the knot between my eyebrows. “What are you thinking about now?”
“It’s embarrassing,” I said.
“I didn’t ask how it made you feel.” Marshall trailed his hand down my face until he had my chin in a grip barely on the gentle side of punishing. “I asked what you were thinking about, Silas.”
I recognized an order when I heard one, and I recognized the flush in my cheeks when I felt it.
“I was thinking about how I didn’t want there to be an after,” I admitted.
He lifted one of his feet and brought it down between my legs, a gentle pressure against my cock, his fingers still warm and solid against my face.
“Who said anything about an after?” he asked.
