He hooked his fingers into Kell’s waistband and tugged him close, but gently, as if giving Kell every opportunity to bail on him. But Kell didn’t want to bail, didn’t want to rush it either. He sighed as Marston kissed him again, his fourth kiss, echoes of the first kisses, sweet and warm, deepening, drawing Kell out of every half-imagined fantasy that he had not enough fodder for and into something so real, he was more alive than he ever had been.
Kell placed his hand on Marston’s bare waist, warm beneath his fingers, muscled, trim. Which was when Marston did the same, an echo of what Kell was doing, as if following Kell’s lead. So Kell moved his hand to tug on Marston’s button, above the zipper of his jeans. Then quietly, without much fuss, he unzipped those jeans, and slid his hand along the top of the elastic waistband of Marston’s briefs.
This was as far as his fantasies had ever taken him in the past, this last barrier between the outside world and the privacy of somebody he might have lusted after, panted after. He’d not really known what came next, what happened between the elastic band and what might follow.
As if sensing his hesitancy, Marston showed him. He unbuttoned and unzipped Kell’s jeans, slipped his hand just inside the elastic band of Kell’s briefs, and then paused, his gaze catching Kell’s, making sure of him, gentle and slow.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
With a curl of his fingers, Marston traced the line of Kell’s hip, pushing the elastic band down, fingers warm, the elastic stretching taut. He paused again, then moved downward, finally cupping between Kell’s thighs, his balls, his hardening cock, a little tug on his pubic hair, the weight of him gathered in Marston’s palm.
“You feel beautiful,” said Marston. “Just beautiful.” He sighed, eyes half lidded. “Now, shall we get undressed and take advantage of all this water?”
Getting undressed in a mutual way felt more natural, now that Marston had touched him, as if they’d broken through a barrier, thin as a bubble of glass but tough as nails. With their hands on each other, they undressed, stripping quickly. When they were bare to the skin, Marston hugged him and drew him beneath the water’s spray, pulling the thick canvas curtain closed, sealing them in.
Then Marston laughed under his breath and stepped out to grab the soap and washcloth. Only the soap was still wrapped in white and blue paper, so for a moment he stood there, head bowed, droplets of water glistening on his head, his jawline, as he, with the most serious of expressions, undid the paper. Kell’s heart twisted at the sweetness, the ordinariness of the moment, the paper sticky and growing soggy, almost impossible to manage.
“Here.” Kell took the soap and unwrapped it, placing the fold of paper on the stone-lined soap tray, then handed it to Marston. “There you go.”
Marston held Kell as he washed him, a damp washcloth, the new bar of soap, clasping Kell to him, Kell’s shoulder to Marston’s chest. Lather bubbled beneath Kell’s chin and as he looked down, he could see the long length of Marston’s legs, the spiral of dark hair along his thighs, the clump of dark, water-speckled pubic hair, the hardness of Marston’s cock, arcing from beneath his trim belly.
Marston could not be more perfect, more steady against Kell’s lightheaded joy, and when he reached to splay his fingers along Marston’s hip, the sturdy bone, the thin tender skin, he felt Marston pause in his ablutions, saw the dip of his chin as if Marston wanted to say,Yes, go ahead. So Kell went ahead.
The shower, the washing, was a guise for something more, of course it was, and Kell was glad for the spray of warm water as he moved his hand and cupped between Marston’s legs, as Marston had done to him. All new. All fascinating. The heft of Marston’s balls, the dense tenderness beneath his cock, the heat of his rising hardness.
He looked up, soap sliding down his chest, Marston’s gaze a little hard, a little intense.
“Can’t get clean that way,” said Marston, and at first Kell didn’t know what he meant. But then Marston went to his knees beneath the pelting spray, his hands on Kell’s thighs, chin raised, those blue-gold eyes asking without words.
With a gulp, Kell nodded, his hands on Marston’s shoulders, the muscled curve still as stone. Then Marston moved, taking Kell’s damp cock inside his mouth in a single pull, and held it there, eyes closed as Kell hardened further beneath the onslaught of Marston’s warm tongue, the suction, the pounding water all around. No fantasy could match this, the intensity, the heat, the vulnerable slip of Marston’s tongue along his length.
Kell tipped his head back and let himself all absorb it all, felt himself melt inside of that sensation, so simple, so shockingly tender against his hard cock, and the sensation of Marston’s mouth sucking him, sucking him while he seemed to slip right out of his body and float to the sky.
When he came, it felt like he jerked, hips thrusting, into Marston’s mouth, which would be so rude, but he’d never done anything like it before, so what did he know. He did not. Only that the sucking of that mouth, the hands clasped on his thighs, fingers digging in, was the most sublime sensation, wrapping him in ribbons of warmth and pleasure, tracing up his spine as the water poured over his chest.
Mouth open, he was drowning, but then Marston stood up and kissed him and pulled him out of the spray, and cupped his fingers along the back of Kell’s neck as his breathing slowed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Marston. “Was it good?” he asked with a kiss to the tip of Kell’s nose.
“Good?” asked Kell, because of course it had been. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
“Like what?” asked Marston. “Cleaner than doing it in a jail cell?”
Puzzled, Kell paused, blinking against the mist of the shower. “I’ve never done it in a jail cell,” he said. “I’ve never done it anywhere.”
“Done what?” asked Marston. He pulled back, his hands still on Kell’s neck, splayed gently along his shoulders. “Had a blow job? Been about to fuck in a shower?” Smiling that small smile of his, he seemed to be on the verge of teasing Kell, though Kell wasn’t sure why.
“Done any of it,” said Kell. “Had a blow job. Given a blow job. Or fucked. Sure I’ve been naked in a shower with other guys, but that was in prison, but Bede was always there to make sure nobody laid a hand on me—”
“You’ve never had sex before?” The question came hard, and the smile was gone as Marston took a step back, his fingers trailing from Kell’s neck. “Ever?”
“No, you’re my first.”
“Yourfirst?” asked Marston, looking a little white and stunned. “What about Bede?”
