“I liked it,” he says, almost defiantly. “I didn’t have to think. I just did what they told me to do. If they hadn’t gone and snitched on me, I probably would have done it again.”
It’s better if he likes it, isn’t it? He ought to be getting something out of this too.
“I believe I have something in common with your teammates,” I confess.
“What’s that?”
“I also like to ruin pretty things.”
Adam’s nostrils flare and he nods solemnly. It feels like permission.
* * *
When we’reboth water-logged and pruney, I retrieve a couple of thick, oversized towels from the cabana and lead him back to the lawn chair. We have a little more to eat and drink, and then I offer to rub his feet.
“That feels so good,” he says, his mantra for the evening. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“I used to rub my mother’s feet for her. She liked it too.”
“Are you this nice to everyone?”
“Definitely not.” My thumbs dig into the ball of one foot. His calf muscle flexes, and he groans pleasurably. “What size shoe are you?” I ask while admiring his very fine arches.
“Ten and a half. Why?”
“I’m going to buy you some fuck-me pumps.”
“Somewhat?” He lifts his stoned head just long enough to gawp at me.
“You have great legs for them. Your ass would look amazing. They keep your calves tight too. My mother hardly ever had to work on her legs.”
“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.”
“I’m not.”
He shakes his head, another dimpled smile gracing his lips. “You could probably convince me to do it too.” I set his foot aside and slowly stroke up his legs with both hands in a soothing rhythm. He shifts to rest one heel on the concrete, letting his towel fall open to expose himself to me. The hair on his upper thighs is sparser, blond and silky against sun-kissed skin. “Are we going to have sex?” he asks, his drowsy gaze focused on the movements of my hands.
“You want to?” My hand skates just to the side of his groin where his erection lies plump and enticing.
“Mmmm, yeah,” he says as his hips undulate in a thrusting motion. He reaches his hands behind his head, flexing his muscles in the process, and smiles smugly when he catches me noticing. “You a top or bottom?” he asks.
“I’m vers.”
“Me too. I mean, probably, I don’t really know yet. But yeah, that sounds good. Why not have both?”
My snort of laughter is as unexpected as it is unseemly. “Why not, indeed. What sounds good to you, in particular?”
“You fucking me, me fucking you. I’m flexible.”
“So very accommodating. That is a very tempting offer, Adam, but I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”
“Of me?” he asks incredulously. “You should, though. I’m here and I’m queer.”
I chuckle at his eagerness. “I’m not going to claim your virginity while you’re high on X. That would make me a bad person.”
He shrugs and rolls his shoulders. “Then why are you teasing me like this?”
“You want me to stop?” I lift my hands from the velvety skin of his inner thighs.
