Water still clings to his skin, catching the lamplight in tiny shimmering beads that slide slowly down the long line of his spine, tracing every ridge and dip of muscle. His back is broad, powerful—shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the kind of body built from real work, not mirrors and gyms.
The towel sits lower now, loosened from his movement, revealing the twin dimples just above the curve of his ass and the barest hint of the cleft between firm, rounded muscle. One more inch and it would slip completely. My breath catches hard in my throat.
He bends slightly to pull open a drawer, and the towel shifts again. The fabric pulls tight across his ass, outlining the heavy shape of him beneath. Muscular thighs, and lower, the unmistakable weight of his cock hanging heavy against his leg, still half-visible through the damp cloth. The sight punches the air from my lungs.
I stand up too fast, legs unsteady, nearly kicking over the pizza box. "I'm gonna—shower now. Yeah."
I bolt for the bathroom like I'm escaping a fire, slam the door, and sag against it. My chest heaves. My cock is so hard it hurts, straining against my jeans, the seam digging in with every throb. My hands shake as I fumble with the lock.
I'm attracted to Jay.
Not just attracted. I want him desperately. I want to drop to my knees in front of him, tug that towel away, feel the heat of his skin under my mouth. I want to taste the water on his chest, drag my tongue down that dark trail of hair, take him deep until he groans my name.
The thought alone makes pre-cum leak steadily, soaking through my boxers in a warm, sticky pulse.
I rip off my clothes, hands clumsy, and stumble into the shower. I twist the knob all the way to cold, but even the icy blast doesn't help. The shock makes me gasp, makes my skin prickle and my nipples tighten, but it does nothing to the ache in my cock.
I brace one hand on the tile wall, head bowed under the spray, and give in.
My other hand wraps around myself immediately, grip tight, almost punishing. I'm already slick with pre-cum, and the first stroke drags a ragged groan from my throat. I bite my lip to muffle it, terrified Jay might hear through the thin door.
But I can't stop.
I picture him exactly as he was minutes ago, water sliding down his throat, over the hard planes of his chest, catching on those tight nipples. The sharp cut of his hips. The thick outline of his cock under that towel—heavy, long, thick enough that my fingers wouldn't meet around it. I imagine it bare, flushed and hot in my hand, velvet over steel, the head slick and dark, leaking for me.
I stroke faster, hips jerking into my fist. The cold water streams down my back, but I'm burning up. I imagine Jay stepping into the shower behind me, pressing that hard body against mine, his rough hands sliding over my wet skin, one wrapping around my throat, the other taking over, stroking me slow and deliberate while his cock grinds against my ass.
I imagine the low growl of his voice in my ear, "You want me, don't you?"
My balls draw up tight, pleasure coiling sharp and unbearable low in my gut. I'm close already—embarrassingly close—just from the memory of him, the scent of him still clinging to the steamy air.
One more stroke, thumb swiping hard over the sensitive head, and I come with a choked gasp, hips snapping forward. Thick pulses spill over my fist, streaking the tile, washed away instantly by the water but not the feeling—the bone-deep release, the shudder that wracks me from shoulders to thighs.
I stay there, forehead pressed to the cold tile, breathing hard, cock still twitching in my hand.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I've never been attracted to anyone before. Not really. There were girls at school who flirted with me. Sarah from my electrical theory class who always sat next to me, that girl Jenny who asked me to prom senior year. As if I could afford to go to prom. At least I had a good reason to turn her down.
I figured I was always just focused on other things. Work. Searching for Jay. Building a future. Going to school. I didn't have time for dating, for any of that.
But this isn't about priorities or focus or any of the excuses I told myself. This is about want. Raw, undeniable want. And I want Jay in a way that scares me, in a way I've never wanted anyone.
Does he know? Can he tell? I've been staring at him all day, finding excuses to touch him, pressing against his back on the motorcycle and never wanting to let go. Does he think I'm weird? Does he think there's something wrong with me?
What would he think if he knew I was jacking off in the shower to the thought of him? Would he yell at me and tell me to get the hell out of here?
The thought makes my stomach clench with fear. Jay is straight. I think. I don't even know what Jay is. He hasn't mentioned dating anyone, but I haven't asked either.
What if he's gay?
I shut that thought down hard because I can't let myself hope. I can't let myself imagine that Jay might feel the same way, that he might want me the way I want him. Because if I'm wrong, if I make a move and he pulls away, if I ruin this fragile thing between us—I'll lose him. And I can't lose him again. Not after everything.
Whatever I'm feeling, I need to shut it down and never let him know. Jay is too important to me for me to do something idiotic and fuck this up.
I finish up quickly, scrubbing at my skin with the cheap motel soap. Trying not to think about the fact that Jay was just standing in this same spot minutes ago, water running over his body. Trying not to think about his wet hair and his bare chest and the way the towel clung to his hips.
Goddammit!I can't stop thinking about him and my cock is already getting hard again. The images are there anyway, burned into my brain, playing on repeat.
