“You know what I don’t understand yet?” he asks as he pulls off his shirt.
I lean back on the dresser, watching him undress for me. “What’s that?”
“Why in the hell someone your age would be interested in a guy like me. At your age, you could get any man you want.”
He stands there with his shirt in his hand, looking at me like I’m supposed to answer. Instead, though, I just wave a finger at his cargo shorts. “Those, too.”
Caesar frowns. “Killing me, kid.”
I grin as he drops his shorts. He’s wearing a gray pair of loose boxer briefs, which do nothing to hide his thick bulge. Caesar’s heavily inked skin is a lot more familiar to me now, but his worn muscles, brawny heft, and silver hair are just as transfixingly beautiful as the first time I saw him.
I take his hand and bring him to the bed. “Well, first off, you’re wrong that I can have any man I want.” Caesar lays down on his belly, and I crawl on top of him. I find a comfy spot, sitting right above his ass, and press my hands to his shoulders. “I appreciate the sentiment, but categorically, that is not accurate.”
Caesar doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as I rub his shoulders, sinking my fingers into his flesh and finding his tight muscles. Then he groans, deep and satisfied.
“Fuck, Drew. That feels so fucking good.”
I lean forward, using the weight of my body to massage him harder. “Your muscles are tight,” I say, then take a deep inhale of his scent. I know he’s been biking and hauling stuff all day, and his muskiness is like a treat.
My cock stiffens, hard in my jeans.
I keep massaging Caesar for a few minutes, exploring his body. The ink on his back is pretty much all given over to one piece, a giant squid thing wrestling a warship into the ocean, tentacles flying everywhere, and beneath the chaos of the design, I find his muscles in coiled, tight lines.
“So what’s the story?” Caesar finally asks again, his face buried in a pillow. “The men your age are all too fucked in the head to realize what a catch you are, so you’re going to rub down an old man instead?”
“Why can’t I just want this because I want it?” I challenge him.
My knuckles sink into the flesh beneath his shoulders, and Caesar lets out a long, breathy groan while his entire body goes limp beneath me.
“Fuck,” he gasps.
I laugh. “Feel good?”
“This is what I’m talking about. You just found a spot that’s been bothering me since you were in junior high.”
I put my pressure on the spot, working the knot. “Sounds like you need me.”
Caesar laughs roughly. “Whatever you say. Just keep working that muscle.”
My mind dances back to the conversations I’ve been having with Piper about all this, dating older guys and what it might mean with Caesar. “Well, it’s not fair, anyway,” I say, repeating some of my friend’s logic. “Why shouldn’t I ask you the same questions? Like, why is it weird for me to be into you, but not for you to be into me?”
“Because I’m a cranky old goon, and you’re a hot young man with a bright future.”
I feel my cheeks get warm. I’m not so confident about my future and about my looks as Caesar is, but the way he says that helps to bolster my confidence.
“You’re not a cranky old goon,” I correct, then rub his shoulders harder. “You’re a hot old bad boy.”
Caesar laughs. “I see you left the old in there.”
“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”
A second passes; then we both break out laughing. I pull Caesar’s face around to kiss him, and when I do, he spins and takes me in his arms. His hard cock rides my thigh as our tongues swirl together, my horniness flaring.
Still, some insecurities and doubt play at the back of my mind, questions that we just danced so close to asking. Caesar has his life together, and even if he thinks I have a bright future, I don’t know how I’m going to pull any of it off.
He might think I’m hot and fun for hooking up, but would he really want to take on all my twenty-something crap as I try to figure my life out?
But then he drags his hands down to my ass and squeezes tight. I writhe against him as we kiss, and all those doubts disappear.
