I shake my head. “I’m going to check in on the garage after this, then probably hide away at home.” I clear my throat, curious if he’s going to be out looking for a date later, or possibly meeting up with a guy he’s already dating. With how attractive and friendly he is, he must have lots of offers. “How about you? You said you have to get back to work?”
He nods as he grabs a fresh towel. “We’re open late tonight. The gayborhood gets pretty rowdy during Pride.”
“Rowdy is one word for it, I hear.”
Finn laughs. “Frisky might be a better one. Either way, the ice cream sales are healthy.” He glances down at himself. “I think I’m mostly unglittered.”
He’s so damn attractive; I struggle not to stare. Instead, I look down and inspect myself, too. Like him, I’m no longer soaking wet, just streaked with bits of pink paint.
“Yeah, I…” My heart stops when I realize I’m half-hard, my partial erection obvious in my wet boxer briefs. Embarrassed, I quickly turn, hoping he hasn’t noticed. When I glance his way again, I see there’s a paint streak down his lower back.
“Back is still pink,” I say.
Finn pulls the towel around, trying to wipe himself off. When he struggles, I step forward, the urge to help stronger than my insecurities. “Let me,” I say, voice soft but firm, and when he nods, I drag a fresh towel down his back, from between his shoulders and down his spine.
It feels right to help take care of him, somehow comforting to me as well.
I feel it everywhere.
Slowly, Finn turns to face me. We’re only a few inches apart, and I’m aware of every nerve in my body and the heat radiating between us. Our encounter in the hotel room is playing in my mind, and I want nothing more than to kiss him again, pull his body to mine.
Finn takes in a shaky breath.
I let myself truly look at him, dragging my eyes down his body, and see that he’s hard in his boxer briefs, also.
“You can come inside,” I tell him. “Use the shower. Or….”
“Or…?”
We stare at each other for another long moment, neither of us breaking the gaze. A drop of paint drips down my forehead. Slowly, Finn leans forward and uses his thumb to swipe it off.
I shudder when he touches me.
“Or we make an exception,” I say, and when he remains close, I lean in. “For Pride.”
Finn angles his body to meet mine, and emboldened, I take his hip and pull him closer. First our eyes meet, and then I bend and lower my mouth to take him in a kiss. Our nearly naked bodies press together, and Finn swirls his tongue against mine, kissing me back as he rises up on his toes.
I growl, my barely suppressed desire surging forth. His slim, warm body is pure pleasure in my embrace. Finn pulls his hands over my torso, feeling my chest, and I drag my palm from his hip to the soft, muscular curve of his ass.
His hard bulge presses to mine, and we kiss each other deeper, longer. I’m groping him, overcome by how much I want to touch him. I’ve been trying to deny this, but his sweet scent and soft mouth drive me wild, unleashing my burning, hard desire.
Last time we were rushed. Hurried. Frantic.
But today, I fully intend to take my time. After weeks of acting like an ass and focusing on myself, I’m going to make this about his pleasure, his satisfaction, and give him back some of that joy he brings into the world.
I fumble for the door with one hand, and when I manage to pull it open, I stumble into my apartment with Finn in my arms.
