“After what felt like a thousand MRIs,” he said with a half-bitter chuckle, “and surgeries, I had no idea when it was all going to stop. I told myself I’d put all my metal back in when I was done, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”
I searched his face and noticed other tiny scars. One just below his lip, right in the center, one in his nose, a pinprick above and below his eyebrow. Was he pierced the night I’d seen him? I’d been so caught up in everything, I wasn’t sure I noticed.
“I want to see them again.”
He swallowed heavily. “Me too. That was a part of me I liked.”
I traced a touch over the ink on his chest, then on the crow that decorated his shoulder. I was such an odd juxtaposition to him, but somehow, it fit. But I was getting off track. I took his chin again and nodded, and he resumed the position.
My body gave a single hard shudder as I gripped my cock and laid the head on his tongue. It was dribbling with precome, and he closed his lips around me, sucking gently and swallowing before opening his mouth again.
“Fuck.”
He hummed in agreement.
It was going to take all my self-control not to let go and spill all over his face. Andgoddid I want to see that. I wanted to see him dripping with my mess. But that was for later. He had one request today, and I meant to give it to him.
“Get me wet and sloppy for you,” I told him, giving my hips the slightest thrust. My dick slid past his teeth.
He groaned as he closed his lips around me, and then with a single inhale through his nose, he sucked…then swallowed. He took me all the way down to the back of his throat, swallowing again as my hands hit the wall, and it cost me everything to stay focused.
His tongue swirled around me, pulsing, massaging my overly sensitive cock.
I wanted to come so fucking badly.
“God, the way you take me,” I murmured.
He hummed again, and I could feel my balls going tight. Shaking my head, I took him by the front of the throat and squeezed gently until he released the suction his mouth had on me. I slid out with an obscene squelch, and I caught a line of spit running down his chin before he swiped it away.
“I’m going to fuck you in here,” I told him.
He swallowed heavily. “I want to, but…I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I won’t be able to stand.” He sounded a little angry—with himself or with me, I wasn’t sure.
But I also wasn’t accepting that as an answer. If he wanted to get fucked in the shower, he was going to get fucked in the shower. We had options.
We had lube and a bench, and I was still fucking strong.
Shaking my head, I shoved my arms under his and lifted until he was on his feet. With a careful twist, I swapped places with him and sat, letting him go so I could lean back and admire the view. He was staring down at me with uncertainty swimming in his gaze.
“Wash whatever you need to wash,” I told him. “I want to watch you.”
He bit his lip, then reached over for the soap and washcloth. I could see from his face that he knew I was up to something. “And then what?”
“Then you’re going to sit on my lap, and I’m gonna finger you until you’re nice and sloppy. When that’s over, I’m going to fuck your ass until you see stars.”
He grunted, gripping the wall with his free hand like he was about to fall over. I could see a faint tremor in his legs.
“Better hurry up,” I told him. “With that hard-on, I’m not sure your knees are gonna hold you up for long.”
He looked at me for a beat—betrayed for a single blink, and then I could tell he was wildly turned on. His exhale trembled so hard I swore I could see his lungs shaking, but he did as I asked.
He poured soap on the washcloth and then began to scrub himself down. He did it without performance—a simple, thoughtless task of getting clean, but he still moved like a man who was used to being seen.
Like a man who was aware of eyes on him at all times.
