I’m moving before I can think twice, and even though I’m wasted, I know it’s wrong. So wrong. I stumble into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
“Fe?” It’s Benjamin. My heart starts pounding so loud I can barely hear him as he begins to laugh while I take a piss. He makes another comment, but I can’t catch it over the rush of my own blood. I take a second to tuck my hard dick into the waistband of my briefs before stepping toward the curtain.
Am I really doing this? God, I just want to see. Just this once. One quick look.
My throat closes when I move the curtain aside and peer in, my eyes instantly locking onto Benjamin. He stands there; head tilted back under the water as he rinses soap out of his golden hair. He’s so fucking beautiful. I’ve never really looked at another guy before, not like this. I’ve never felt the urge.
But every part of Benjamin glows. His broad shoulders and chest, the hourglass shape of his waist that most girls work so hard in the gym to achieve. His hips are so smooth, his stomach so soft yet tight.
I notice his belly button is an outie, and for some reason, that makes me smile. I wonder how I never noticed this, having seen him swim for so many years now. Perspective, I guess.
I try my best to keep my eyes from going any lower than the Adonis belt he has carved out so perfectly. I’m mostly successful. So, score one for Aaron’s drunk self-control.
Benjamin tilts his head back down and turns around to rinse his face, showing me his back where the two little dimples sit just above his ass. I know they’re there. I’ve seen them a million times before. But damn, if I don’t want to lick at them, to press my thumbs into them as hard as possible, to pull any sound from him that I can. And don’t even get me started on his toned little ass.
He turns back around and wipes his eyes, opening them to meet mine. He lets out a startled screech. I smile again, resisting the urge to laugh.
“Uh, Aaron?” He sounds surprised, maybe even a little curious, but not angry. Not scared or repulsed. So, I stay standing. I watch the red blush spread over his skin, the hot water not being the only thing dusting color onto his chest, neck, and cheeks.
“Hi, Button,” I say, noticing that he doesn’t cover up, doesn’t reach for a towel in a panic, doesn’t tell me to leave. He just stands there, peering back at me. “What are you doing?”
A laugh punches its way out of him, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“I’m showering, clearly. Are you okay? Did you need to shower or something?”
I shake my head. He stares back at me, those hazel eyes appraising me, tracing my face slowly as if he’s trying to understand my intentions.
“Hm.” He hums. It’s like he’s trying to decide what to do next, what the next move should be. I see many emotions flash through his eyes—anxiety, curiosity, interest, lust. But I’m also wasted, so I don’t trust my own judgment.
Then, as if this is totally normal, he grabs the loofah and continues to shower.
I feel like all the steam in the room has gathered in my chest instead. My head is a mixture of panic and pleasure. I know I shouldn’t be here, but it feels so good to be.
He doesn’t hide, doesn’t stop. My eyes follow where his hands go, and he lets them. In fact, he puts on a show. Movements are slower, softer, and more cautious. Over his shoulders, down his arms, reaching behind him to scrub his back, making his biceps and pecs flex obscenely. Then to his chest, where I watch the loofah glide over his nipples, pebbling them despite the heat of the water.
I become aware once again of how hard my dick is, and to keep from crossing another boundary tonight, I cross my arms tightly over my chest, hoping it will stop me from pulling my pants down and rubbing one out while I watch him.
Benjamin washes over his hips and thighs, down the rest of his legs, then scrubs his feet. Rinsing the loofah and applying moresoap, he moves to the last bit of his body left to cover. My heart rate picks up even more, and for a moment, I wonder if I might have a stroke before he’s done showering.
The loofah runs down his abs and over the smooth, clear expanse of his pubic bone. Curious for only a moment, I remember he’s a swimmer, and like most athletes, he probably keeps himself hairless on purpose. I watch as he washes his dick, using his non-dominant hand to lift it and wash around and under, moving down to his balls. Imagining it hard, Benjamin’s dick is a lot bigger than I thought it’d be. He’s cut, just like me, and maybe a bit smaller than me, too, but considering the tiny Speedos he wears for swimming, I can’t believe he fits that thing in them without it popping out.
I’m a bit disappointed when he doesn’t turn around to wash his ass, instead just reaching behind himself, but he isn’t necessarily supposed to be putting on a show for me, is he?
He begins to rinse off the remainder of the soap, and I follow a stream of bubbles with my eyes as it caresses his body, all the way over his hips to his ankle. I wonder what sounds he’d make if I licked him like that. Would he cry? Moan? Beg me to stop? Beg me for more?
My eyes snap back up to his face, and he’s staring at me already.
I take a deep breath, trying to swallow the intensity of the look he’s giving me. Studying him, I try to make sense of what I’m seeing through my drunken stupor. Like an animal fighting its natural urges, he stands rigid. His eyes are hooded and heated, his lips parted but breathless. His brow slightly furrowed, and if his dick were hard, I would have mistaken this for lust. Why hasn’t he sent me away?
“Button,” I say, my voice rough. I hope he understands me. That way, even if he wants it, if I lean in to take it, he can stop me. He’ll heed the warning. We can’t.
“Yes?” He sounds so fucking good. He sounds like he’s already on his knees. Like he’s staring up at me, leaving everything in my hands.
Felix’s door opens and closes, and I hear him shuffling around in his room. I snap back to reality. Fuck, this is bad. I stare at Benjamin’s face for a beat or two longer, then greedily rake my eyes over every inch of him I can, committing it to memory as I’m sure this is the last time I’ll see him like this. Soaking wet and hot, looking at me like a scared puppy.
Giving him a rushed nod, I turn and quickly leave, locking the bathroom door behind me as if I’m keeping myself from going back in there and shoving my tongue down his throat.
Why was he looking at me like that? Where was the Benjamin I know? Replaced by an imposter with eyes, I think, may have been telling me that if I told him to, he’d suck it. Like he wants me to dominate him, like he was anticipating it.
