“Yes, actually.”
Andrew sighs. “For the sake of what you’re trying very hard to sus out, I would consider myself bisexual because I have dated men and women. But I find the term asexual more fitting and affirming, so I usually just use that.”
“Asexual,” Nicholas repeats, trying to recall everything he knows which is admittedly not much. “Then you hate sex?”
“Will you go shower,” Andrew sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Only if you explain more when I get out,” Nicholas demands.
“Fine, yes. Go take your goddamn shower and then let me shower. Then once we’re both on the couch in comfortable clothes with enough ice cream to regulate my brain with sugary dopamine, you can ask me whatever you want. I can’t promise to answer if it makes me uncomfortable, but you canask.”
“Okay.”
“Nicki?”
“Yeah?”
“Go.”
Nicholas does go, stumbling into Andrew’s bedroom and towards the shower in his ensuite. He stops midstep, pausing in the middle of Andrew’s bedroom to study it. Everything is white from the bed piled high with fluffy blankets and pillows to the oversized chair in the corner. There’s even a thick white rug under his bare toes that covers most of the hardwood floor. Above the bed is a single painting, splashes of blues and purples that remind Nicholas of the sea. Aside from that sole painting, everything is devoid of color, the room sparsely filled. What should seem barren is simply calm, and it is surprisingly easy to picture Andrew in here.
“Stop being nosy,” Andrew demands from the open doorway. He marches into the room behind Nicholas and lays his hands on either side of Nicholas’s bare waist. “Take the damn shower.”
“Bossy.”
“Someone needs to keep you in check,” Andrew says, his long fingers curling around Nicholas’s hips. It’s a good thing he’s facing away from Andrew because his dick definitely takes notice of how those hands feel.
“That someone going to be you, princess?”
“Apparently,” Andrew says, physically marching him into the bathroom. “Now be a good boy and wash off, and deal with that before it pokes someone’s eye out.”
“So you did notice,” Nicholas grins.
“Hard not to notice that,” Andrew says. “I’m going to step out now and assume you know how to wash yourself.”
“You could help,” Nicholas says, knowing Andrew is going to turn him down but unable to stop himself from trying.
“How about no,” Andrew snorts. With his hands on his hips and his expression serious, he is adorably stern. “Why are you smiling?”
“You the boss of my smiles now, too?”
“Just…shower,” Andrew grumbles.
“Alright, princess. Just for you.”
Andrew huffs out something unintelligible as he leaves the bathroom. Alone in Andrew’s private space, the urge to snoop around is strong, but Nicholas really could use a shower, and he’s not sure he wants to risk annoying Andrew further. A little playful annoyance is one thing, but there was a tightness in his expression that makes Nicholas wary of pushing too hard. It’s an odd feeling, since noticing that kind of tension is normally exactly what makes him push. Whether it’s his parents, or opposing teammates, he’s always been good at reading people—at knowing when and where to push for maximum effect.Finding a weakness to exploit is how to get on top. Only, noticing Andrew’s weaknesses make Nicholas want to do something far different. He doesn’t want to provoke, he wants to protect.
He also desperately wants to come. Focusing on that need, he steps into the shower, adjusting the water until it’s comfortably warm. Something about being in Andrew’s space makes him want more, and he reaches for the body wash, flicking open the cap and inhaling the subtle scent. He squirts some into his hands, lathering it over his chest and down his stomach until he reaches his dick, curling a soapy hand around himself.
Thoughts of Andrew flood his mind. Andrew’s particular little frown, his mischievous smile, his soft hands on Nicholas’s hips. Fuck.
Knowing that Andrew has no interest in Nicholas, not even for a quickie, should be enough to extinguish his arousal, but all it does is heighten it. He’s never met anyone like Andrew, never met anyone who went head to head with Nicholas, who challenged him and demanded things from him. He’s never met anyone with such strong morals, willing to do anything to help the people he cares about. Nicholas can’t imagine it. Even Amanda is only in his life because he pays her.
Frowning at his morose turn of thoughts he attempts to redirect them, tries to focus on the physical—on the sharp angles of Andrew’s face, the shape of his almost delicately long fingers, or the fan of his thick eyelashes. Instead his brain keeps circling back to how Andrew makes himfeel. Stroking himself hard and fast, he tries to keep it physical, to think of nothing more than how hot Andrew is, but his brain refuses—reminding him about the way Andrew felt in his arms tonight or how much fun he is to tease.
Pleasure mounts as he continues to fuck his fist, speeding up his strokes until he’s coming with a grunt—the scent of Andrew’s body wash and sex clinging to his fingers. He takes long minutesrinsing away the proof, all of it swirling down the drain as Nicholas’s mood follows.
Nicholas doesn’t have crushes on anyone, and certainly not on khaki-wearing, bossy assholes who tell him when to shower. Hedoesn’t.
