I can’t blame that on any allergic reaction. It’s caused by Dair breaking off to lose the last of his clothing.
He kicks out of scrub trousers, socks, and his undies, then steps into the tub, and I gotta say, his dick doesn’t look one bit sleepy. His gaze tells a different story as Dair extends a hand, inviting me to join him.
Doing that would flood this bathroom. Would also mean hunting down a mop and bucket in belongings that are already packed and waiting for tomorrow. I’m not about to make more work for him on his final night here, so I sit on the side of the tub instead of setting off a tidal wave of water.
The first time I took this spot, we barely knew each other. He still kissed me all better with aloe vera.That moment must be on his mind for him to murmur, “I gave you antihistamine, and you took it.”
I nod and swirl one hand in the still-running water, testing the temperature again. Oil sheens the surface. Something else sheens his eyes and he sounds worried. “Vincent, I could have given youanything.”
“But you didn’t. Besides, I saw the box.” There was no mistaking those bees and pollen illustrations. And there’s no mistaking how much he means this.
“Don’t do that when I’m gone.” He reaches for the taps and stops the water flowing. It’s suddenly so much quieter. He’s never sounded more determined. “Don’t trust anyone you just met. Or your phone. Not when it comes to medications. Send me a pic of the label.”
So he can read it for me.
“Promise me, Vincent.”
I nod, and Dair nods back firmly. He also sinks back into steaming water.
His cock breaks the milky surface. He holds it higher. Strokes himself once, twice, ripples spreading. A third time, and I’m done with only watching. Done too with caring if me taking over ends up splashy. My shirt is damp already, and it gets even wetter after I lean over the side of the bath to take over his hand job.
His dick is as warm as the water. Silk slides over the kind of steel my own cock is in a rush to catch up with. His is a good fit for my hand. Perfect, really. My thumb catches someplace he likes, and his breath hitches.
Just like that, I’m ruined for hookups. He confirms it by sinking even lower, like he knows I’d never let him go under.
Of course, I won’t. I hook an arm underneath him and hoist him up so his dick breaks the surface, and I blow him.
My tongue finds the same place that made his breath catch, and water does splash. Dair slings a wet leg over the side of the bath, his hips lifting even higher in a clear sign I don’t need an app to dictate for me.
He wants more than the head of his dick in my mouth.
I take a deep breath, steam curling around us like what pulled me here this evening. I wouldn’t recognise the wordattractionif it was written. Man, do I ever feel it. And I like it.
Dair likes my mouth on him. He tells me so by giving up another of those deep groans, and me dipping the tip of my tongue into his slit gets me a repeat. His hips rise even higher. That tells me to keep going. So does the clunk of his head against cast iron and enamel, so I take a second deep breath and take him deeper, even if it might drown me.
The movement of my own hand up and down his shaft splashes my face. I can’t care. Or stop, not even when his groansstop. This silence only broken by my own splashing tells me he’s holding his breath. His gaze is locked on what I’m doing to him, darker than ever. Gorgeous.
Don’t ask me why I wink.
Or why he laughs.
We’re both surprised, I think. He laughs again, gets a mouthful of bath-salted water, and I don’t know how I keep from choking at the look on his face. Then I do choke, because he squirms, and I say a silent thanks to my genetics and for every sofa I ever had to carry. The muscles they built mean I’m more than strong enough to stop his slip-sliding. I take all his weight, more water splashing, my head bobbing faster, and like before, his fingers find my shoulders. My biceps. The back of my neck.
His nails dig in again, but he can go ahead and hold on to me as tight as he likes.
I’m going nowhere until he gets at least one happy ending.
14
A sharp hintof salt slows my roll, otherwise I’d bob my head even faster. That salt doesn’t come from anything I added to the bathwater. For a second time in this room, I’m the reason Dair is close to coming.
I’m tempted to be as greedy as I felt over something else I once stripped bare but didn’t get to keep. That desk turned out to have more value than I could have guessed, and I let it slip through my fingers.
I hold on to Dair much more tightly.
I’m also careful. I know that’s a contradiction. I can’t help being that way around him, and I got no hope of stopping myself from wanting to give back all the care he’s shown me. I adjust my hold to do that, shoving up my shirt sleeves before hoisting him higher, and once his cock is out of the water, I take all of him.
The next time I speak, I’ll be hoarse for more than East End reasons. That gravel will be worth it if I get to rewind and replay Dair’s eyes closing and his mouth falling open the moment I bury my nose in wet and dark-red pubes and swallow around his dick.
