Tyson sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he stared down at me. “So much,” he finally said, his hand going still around my shaft. “Doyouwant to, sweetness?”
“Yes,” I blurted, nodding like a bobblehead. “Please, Tyson. I… I want everything.”
I snapped my mouth closed, worried that I’d come across as too needy—he’d said “every day,” but I knew how he was and that he’d just meant it as a figure of speech—but Tyson just smiled, giving me one of those looks that always made warm, swirling goodness pool in my belly.
“Perfect,” he said instead of getting mad at me for asking for too much. Then he tugged on my… well, you know. “Let’s get you into the shower, baby, because as sexy as you look like this, you’re gonna hate me if it dries all over you.”
I’d died and gone to heaven.
“I could never hate you,” I said, pretty sure it was the opposite, actually.
Was hereallygoing to want to touch me again? And… and do everything else? Not every day, not forever, of course, but maybe for more than just tonight?
But then he kept tugging on me—not the stroking way that made me feel like I was going to explode, but pulling my thing like it was a handle as he led me down the hall to the bathroom—and I really didn’t have the ability to think anymore at all. Well, except to realize that I’d been wrong. There was no way I’d actually died because heaven couldn’t possibly be this good… at least, not the version of heaven I’d been taught about growing up.
And the things Tyson did to meinthe shower? Those wouldn’t have been allowed in that kind of heaven at all.
4
Tyson
“Dude, check the lat pulldowns,”my friend Brian said out of the corner of his mouth, hovering over the bench to spot me as I powered through my third set of presses. “Didn’t you hit that last month?”
I forced the bar up one more time with an explosive grunt, then brought it to rest on the rack and sat up, glancing over at the twink in question.
“Probably,” I said, not entirely sure. He looked kinda familiar and was definitely my type—blond hair, pretty face, tight ass—but honestly, I was supposed to remember every guy I’d ever stuck my dick into? I was here on a football scholarship, not a math one.
“Well, looks like you could again by the way he’s eyeing you in the mirror,” Brian said with a grin, tossing me a towel to wipe off the bench. “You want me to find another spotter so you can take him back to the locker room?”
“Nah,” I said, taking a second to down some water before taking up my position at the head of the bench. “Quit stalling and lift.” I smirked. “Unless you need me to lighten the bar a little?”
I reached for plates, acting like I was about to just to mess with him.
“Fuck you,” Brian said predictably, lifting the bar with a grunt before I could touch it. “This is… a fucking… cake walk,” he said between reps. “I should… load up…moreweight.”
I snorted, my hands hovering under the bar because I might give him shit, but you don’t fuck with spotting. Still, if Brian thought he was fooling me with his bullshit about being able to bench more than I could, he was sorely mistaken. I knew his limits almost as well as I did my own—we were both juniors, both here on football scholarships, and we’d been working out together since freshman year—and this morning, I’d loaded the bar with enough weight that he’d beluckyto get through all three sets.
Shit,I’dbarely managed it... not that those words would ever pass my lips, of course.
“What the…fuck,” Brian grunted, forcing the bar up for the last rep of his first set.
I grabbed it at the top, maneuvering it onto the rack for him.
“You got something to work out of your system or something this morning, Ty?” he asked, rubbing his pecs for a second before shaking out his arms and reaching for the bar again to start his second set. “This is... fucking… heavy.”
“Just say the word and we’ll take it down to pussy-weight for you,” I said, earning a glare and a “fuck you, motherfucker” for my mad conversational deflection skills.
But I wasn’tworking something out of my system, thank you very much, I’d just realized that I was going to need to push myself a little harder this morning to get in the zone, that was all. Lifting while distracted was flat-out stupid, and I’d… well, guess you could say I’d had a little trouble focusing at first.
I’d never been one to spend all that much time thinking about the guys I fucked once my pants were zipped again—and by not “all that much,” I basically meant none—and I sure as shit had never been distracted during a workout just because I’d gotten my rocks off the night before. This morning, though? For some reason, I couldn’t get Sean’s hot-as-fuck cum-face out of my mind.
Or the desperate little sounds he’d made when my hand had been on his dick.
Or the way he’d clung to me in the shower when I’d pushed him up against the wall and jacked us off together after getting him cleaned up from the first round.
Or thatlookhe’d had on his face, all adoring and glowy and shit, when I’d told him how fucking good it had been… how gorgeous he’d looked with my cum all over him… how perfect he’d felt with his legs wrapped around me and his hot little mouth mine for the taking, letting me do any damn thing I wanted and thenthankingme for it…
Not that one night had been enough time to get through even half of what I really wanted to do with him yet. And… fuck. That was it, wasn’t it?Yet. Sweet little Sean wasn’t gonna be a one-and-done for me, and it freaked me the fuck out almost as badly as the fact that after our shower last night I’d wanted even more.
