“Nor am I,” Jag told him. “So don’t ever ask me to.”
He pulled away and played with Michael’s tie for a few seconds before wrapping it around his hand. He used the tie to drag Michael to him so they could kiss again. Then he released him and stood up, returning to the pole. He leant against it, resting his head on his raised arm.
“I guess I’ll see you after closing.”
“In the shower,” Michael reminded him.
Jag ran his thumb over his lower lip. “You’d best come prepared.” He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips seductively, loving the way Michael fidgeted and tugged at his trousers. “Later.”
He twisted round the pole, pushed away, grabbed his bag, and sauntered into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
9Michael
The end of the night couldn’t come fast enough. It was busy, about usual for a Monday night. Michael spent his time working front of house, keeping an eye on things in general and watching Jag whenever he was dancing on the poles. The young man’s routine had evolved since his first night, almost a couple of weeks ago, culminating in a stunning finishing pose. He stood with his heels and shoulders against the pole, hips pushed forwards, back arched. One arm stretched down, fingers splayed, the other hooked around the pole, elbow high, forearm lying across his elongated neck. His face was tipped up towards the spotlight, eyes closed. With the metallic body paint, he looked like an erotic statue, except for the occasional bead of sweat that wound down his body, cutting a path through the silver that coated his skin. There was no way Michael could have taken his eyes off Jag, even if he’d wanted to.
By the time the club had closed and he’d chased the dancers, staff, and bouncers out, he was beyond frustrated. He forced himself to finish up properly, locking up and stashing the takings in the safe before heading to the shower room. He hoped Jag had waited, as he’d asked him to. If not, he’d be showering alone, forced to jack himself off to thoughts of the delicate dancer.
Jag was waiting for him just inside the shower room, still wearing the low-slung black jeans he’d been dancing in. Without a word, the young man stripped them off and wandered over to the closest shower. He turned on the tap, shuddering slightly as the water splashed onto him. It must have been cold; it always was until it had run for a few seconds. Jag made no attempt to wash the body paint away, which really did cover every beautiful inch of his perfectly proportioned body, but the water started to do the job for him.
“Are you joining me?” Jag asked without looking at Michael.
Michael hurried to undress, hopping as he pulled off his socks. Naked, he stepped under the shower, which was now running pleasantly warm, a little above his body temperature. He intended to get much hotter. He grabbed a bar of soap and used it to create a lather in his hands that he then worked over Jag’s back. He washed the paint away deliberately slowly, enjoying every curve of Jag’s body, his hands caressing soft skin and firm muscles.
When Jag’s back was pink and clean, Michael knelt down and began to work on his lower half. He took his time as his hands massaged soap onto Jag’s buttocks, resisting the urge to part them and explore. Jag shivered, and Michael hoped it was from his touch rather than because they were naked and under a shower.
He cleaned Jag’s legs next, making sure to pay particular attention to the young man’s inner thighs, not so innocently grazing delicate parts as he did so. Jag sucked in a breath and braced himself against the wall, spreading his legs a little further. If that wasn’t an invitation to carry on, Michael didn’t know what was. He caressed Jag’s thighs, moving his hands up and forwards until he was able to touch his balls. He cupped them and massaged them, listening as Jag moaned softly. He would have remained where he was longer, but the tiled floor was mercilessly hard on his knees. He pressed a soft kiss to the small of Jag’s back and then stood.
“Turn around,” he said.
Surprisingly, the young man obliged, but instead of standing patiently still, as he had been doing, he wrapped his arms around Michael’s back and pulled him into a searing kiss. Michael pushed him against the wall, running his fingers through the longer lengths of Jag’s hair. His fingers and chest became covered in flecks of body paint, which shimmered under the strip lighting. Almost immediately, Jag pushed back, twisting them both so it was Michael who was pressed against the wall.
“You really don’t like surrendering, do you?” Michael asked between hot kisses.
“Not at all.” Jag ran his hands up and down Michael’s chest, applying enough pressure to imply he didn’t want the older man to move.
For the time being, Michael was happy to play along, to find out what it was Jag was going to do. He was far too used to compliant partners, so this was new and exciting.
“I made you dirty,” Jag said, jutting his lower lip out, as he wiped some of the transferred body paint away.
Michael grabbed the soap from the holder and held it out to him. “Why don’t you do something about that?”
Jag frowned. Michael wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t ask. Every time he thought he was starting to understand Jag, he was thrown for a loop. Eventually Jag took the soap and began to clean Michael’s chest with achingly slow strokes that were clearly designed to turn him on.
“Better,” Jag said, standing back, flicking his eyes up and down Michael’s body.
“But you’re still dirty,” Michael pointed out seductively. “And I promised to help you get clean.”
Jag returned the soap to him and stood completely still, letting Michael clean him. As Michael bent down to run gentle, soapy hands over Jag’s cock, the young man leant against him, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his face into his shoulder. Jag’s breathing devolved into sharp pants that puffed against Michael’s ear. Although he quickly finished his cleaning task, Michael wondered if he should carry on and give the young man an orgasm.
Almost as though Jag had read his mind, he whispered, “My legs are still covered in paint.”
Michael chuckled and got to his knees again, quickly finishing the job.
The moment he stood, Jag’s arms wrapped around him, and he was pushed back against the wall. They kissed and caressed, allowing the heat of the water to ward away the chill in the air.
“Is this all you want to do?” Michael asked, breathless.
“For now.” Jag stared up at him. “Are you in a hurry?”
