My cock twitches in my workout shorts as I remember the way he looked completely naked, on his knees, his lips stretched around me.
Thank fuck for compression shorts. It’s helping keep the monster between my legs a little restrained.
I move toward some weights that people left on the floor and put them away. I don’t know why half the people treat this place like it’s their own personal garbage can. They leave behind Gatorade bottles, dirty socks, fungal cream—all kinds of shit I don’t want to deal with.
And do not get me started on the way people refuse to wipe their sweat off machines when they’re done with them. But hell, at least it’s busywork.
I’m crouched over, cleaning up a stain off the weight bench, when I catch sight of a familiar figure in my periphery. I hold mybreath, my heart pounding as I try to find the courage to look over.
Eventually, I do, and there he is, in front of the mirror, walking my way. I think he’s oblivious to the fact that I’m the one he’s walking toward, though, because his steps don’t falter at all.
I’m almost loath to stand up, terrified to scare him off, but the twist in my belly has me doing it anyway. I’m mad enough about being ignored.
His steps hesitate as his eyes land on mine, and I can see the flush on his cheeks and the way his lips part in a staggered breath.
Then he veers right, and my feet carry me toward him before he can get too far. I can’t help myself.
I’m drawn to him, a static force, and the closer I get, the more I can feel the energy between us crackle and snap. He must feel it, too, because he shivers, his skin breaking out in goose bumps.
He’s wearing shorts and a loose tank top, showing off his muscles as he moves. I can see the tension in his shoulders as he turns a corner and makes his way toward the single-stall staff bathroom. Peering behind him, he lets out a frustrated grunt when he realizes I’m a few feet away. He pushes the door to the bathroom open, and it hits the wall roughly as I follow him inside.
There’s a tense moment, charged air between us as he freezes…
Then he spins to face me, anger and lust on his face.
‘Why you follow me?’ he asks, his hands slashing through the air.
I shrug and reach behind me, locking the door and staring at him with purpose. With determination. With a knowingthat I will not leave this room until I get some fucking answers.
His eyes flick to it, and he lets out a small groan. ‘We shouldn’t,’ he tells me, but I’m already moving toward him, unable to help myself.
We’re tethered together, an elastic band ready to snap.
He takes a few steps back, hitting the wall as I crowd him, and my hands bracket his head. I can feel the nervous puffs of his breath against my lips. Removing one hand from the wall, I drag a finger from his abdomen to his neck, feeling the tremble in his body.
It makes me unreasonably hot. Fuck answers. At least for now. Being with him, touching him again, fucking him, is more important. I need it, and I think he does too.
‘I want,’ I tell him. It’s just two signs, a finger to my chest, then my palm facing up and fingers scrunching a little. Then I point to his chest, digging my finger into his sternum. ‘You want.’
The moment stretches…then snaps, our mouths colliding with a clash of teeth. His hands are in my hair, and mine are on his ass, dragging him up against me as we kiss. It’s all tongue and spit as we try to devour the other. Our hard cocks rub together as we grind against each other, trying to satisfy the lust burning inside of us.
And the moans he gives me are almost enough to end me, sweet and needy and desperate.
I want to get on my knees this time. I want to be the one to swallow him down.
I rip his mouth from mine, and he chases me, his cheeks a pretty pink, his hair a mess. I lick up his neck, feeling his Adam’s apple bob under my tongue, and when I meet his eyes, pupils wide and dilated, I wet my lips.
‘You my little slut.’ It’s not a question, more of a statement. Never in my life have I ever said this to someone, but fuck, he brings it out in me.
He whimpers, and I slide my fingers against his pebbled nipples, tweaking the C-rings. He moans again, and his head falls back against the wall as he struggles to breathe.
My hands grab onto his waist, his back arching slightly, and I bite down on the hard metal in his nipple, tugging lightly to make him moan.
Fuck, he tastes so good. I move to the other one, being rougher than I should, but I can tell he likes it. I was right about him being my little slut. His hips are rocking against me, seeking friction, seeking completion.
The heel of my palm drags down to his covered dick, and the desperate pants he makes are enough to have me damn near exploding in my shorts.
But I can’t. Not fucking yet.
