“So you want me to wear it?” It could happen. Nick generally preferred to keep his uniform at work, but many of his coworkers took them home.
“I really do. I want you to let me take it off of you.”
Breathe in, one, two, three. Breathe out, one, two, three, four.
“Tell me. Tell me what you’d do.”
Oliver did. In excruciating detail. He talked about undoing Nick’s fly, the smell and the taste as Oliver pulled Nick’s cock out. He told Nick about the feeling of his hands in Oliver’s hair, holding him down. His words were accompanied by the sound of his body shifting on his sheets. The little hitches in his voice, the strangled whimpers, the moments where Oliver, too, had to pause and breathe, nearly undid Nick. His skin burned, and his dick was so hard in his pants, he didn’t know how the seams didn’t split.
“Keep talking,” he gritted out.
“I can’t . . .” Oliver was panting now. He was so close to the edge, and Nick could barely stand it. The quiet closeness of it, Oliver’s voice, his heavy moans playing only in Nick’s ears through the headset, Nick barely managed to keep himself together. His nails dug into the top of the table, and the tips of his fingers had gone white.
“Ni—” His name on Oliver’s lips was cut off when the phone was filled by a shout, followed by his shuddering groan. Nick pressed his lips together and shut his eyes so he could picture it, like it had been the other day. Oliver, laid out on the floor, rocking through his orgasm. Nick gripped himself, forcing his own release back. He’d wanted this, and four hours of blue balls was what he was going to have to pay for it.
“Still there?” Oliver asked between gasps.
“Still here.”
“That was—”
“Yeah.” The moment could barely be more intimate if they had been face to face.
“Until Sunday?”
Nick had to laugh at that. “If I survive.”
“You better. You have to deliver on that fantasy.”
The odds of Nick lasting until Sunday were barely fifty-fifty.
“You think you’ll sleep now?”
“Undoubtedly. Thanks for that.”
They said their good nights, and afterward Nick took a few more minutes alone to collect himself. His dick ached with the need to come, but he’d have to wait.
By the end of his shift, though, Nick was about ready to crawl out of his skin. When Sharon and Dave showed up to start the morning shift, he bolted for the staff room to change out of his uniform.
He was home just as Anya and Hayden were getting ready for their day.
“Hey!” Anya smiled at him brightly. His brain was so consumed by lust, he could barely look at her. He needed them out of his house. He needed to jerk off in the shower, or in bed like Oliver had, and shout his release until his throat and his balls were dry.
“I’m going for a ride.”
“A ride?” Anya frowned.
“I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Nick?” Anya called to his back as he went down the hall to change.
When he’d been younger, Nick had been a runner, but he’d had to give it up after his accident. His leg couldn’t take the impact, which should have been his first hint he wasn’t going to make it back to firefighting. The physiotherapist had suggesting cycling as an alternative, and Nick still did it sometimes, but he never felt the same high he had when running.
But the alternative today was leaving his sexual frustration to build up at home, so he put on his sweats and got the old bike out of the garage. He could feel Anya’s eyes on the back of his neck as he pedaled down the driveway, but he kept going.
Seacroft was quiet. It had rained overnight and was still drizzling. A path system led from one side of town to the other, and Nick followed the trail that wound beside a creek and eventually put him on the boardwalk alongside the beach. Despite the drizzle, the morning was warm and humid, and he picked up a sweat as he rode, which helped to clear some of the Oliver fog from his brain.
He was nearly ready to turn and head for home when he spotted a jogger running along the boardwalk at the top of the beach. Nick coasted to a halt and realized that this guy wasn’t a jogger. He was a runner, and he was moving. For Nick, running had been about the cardio and staying in shape for his job. This guy was running like he had somewhere to go or a time to beat. His long legs turned a fast rhythm. His form was good, one foot planting solidly in front of the other. He was dressed for it too, in long tights and one of those nylon jackets with the reflective tape on it.
