“Could we—” he swallows and I hear the dry clicking in his throat. “I know I already said just this week. And then I lost my mind for a minute there.” He swallows again. “Could we just…start over? Have tonight, and not talk about?—”
“Yes.” It’s my turn to interrupt him.
Fuck talking. Fuck the future. Fuck what anyone might or will think about this, including our future selves. All I want right now is to fuck him.
“Yes, please.”
Jason’s shoulders slump and I realize how stiff he’d been holding himself.
Not as stiff as my dick suddenly is.
Jason’s eyes go straight to my crotch, where there’s a bulge peeking out from my half-open fly.
“There’s just one thing I want to say.” Jason looks up at me, and his eyebrows draw together in wariness. ”Not about…” I wave my hands around, gesturing vaguely at all the…whatever…between us. “Just. You don’t have to be gentle or tentative with me. You can be, you know, the way you were last time.”
I’m not normally shy about what I want in bed. But Jason’s reaction when I barely suggested he might have a dominant streak makes me want to be a little more delicate.
Jason crosses his arms over his chest and gazes at me silently for a long moment. It’s like he’s thinking through something or assessing me and I resist the impulse to shift position under his scrutiny.
“Lose the shirt and take your pants off,” he finally orders. It’s definitely an order.
I drop my shirt and tear my pants the rest of the way open as quickly as I can. My stomach drops to my feet when Jason gestures at my boxer briefs. “Those, too.”
I hook my thumbs in the waistband and drag them over my aching cock, then let them slide down my legs and kick my clothes off into a corner. “Now what?” I ask.
Jason’s uncrossed his arms and is leaning back, hands bracing himself on the bed. “Give me a minute,” he says. “I didn’t really get a good look at you last time.”
Last time meaning fifteen years ago or last time meaning the other day when he arrived and caught me with just a towel on after my dip in the pool?
Whatever, if Jason wants to look at me naked, that’s fine, as long as he keeps looking at me like that.
Sixteen
Jason
Mother of God, Victor is impressive. I was too busy trying not to look at him the previous times I’ve seen his body. Broad shoulders, a smooth chest, pecs that would make a saint weep. Arms and abs that speak to years of discipline. He tapers down to narrow hips, long legs, and if I make him turn around to show me what is surely an equally impressive ass…well, I'll save that view for later.
Obviously, as an athlete and trainer, he has a professional obligation to stay fit, but good Lord, what He’s given to this man. Who’s standing in front of me, patiently waiting. ”I’m trying to decide what I want to do with you,” I finally say.
A smile blooms on his face along with a bright gleam in his eyes. “Want a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“How about you take your clothes off and kiss me.”
“I’ve heard worse ideas,” I say as I pull my shirt off over my head. I’m nowhere near as fit as Victor, but he looks about as hungry as I feel, so I shove down a momentary clench of shame at being naked before him and stand up to shuck my pants and underwear. When I straighten up, Victor lifts a hand and brushes a wayward strand of hair off my forehead. I close my eyes at his touch so I don’t see him move closer, but I feel him.
There’s a faint puff of breath on my cheek, then his lips are on mine. They’re firm and warm and I part my own lips almost instantly because I’ve held back enough today.
This week.
Ever.
When our tongues meet, I lose track of everything—my fears, my doubts—in the miracle of Victor’s lips sliding against mine, our tongues tangling.
“Jesus wept,” I mutter against his lips when we pause for air.
Victor chuckles and the vibration thrums through me.
