"Yes." The sound is mostly breath as my lungs seize.
Duncan's fingers graze up the open sides of my shirt along my skin and my knees nearly buckle. My hand reaches back and finds his hip to steady myself against.
He feels solid behind me. My head swims and falls back but instead of landing against his shoulder, he’s stepping back and I jerk my neck upright.
Where did he go? All he’s done is unbutton my shirt and I'm already mourning the loss of him.
Fuck I’m needy.
My eyes follow his as he gazes down the curve of my shoulder as he exposes it, pulling my shirt off my arms. His movements are slow, and seductive, and the cool air of the room crashes against my heated skin and I shiver.
Duncan tosses my shirt over the back of the settee next to us and when his hands return to my body they find the button on my jeans. My breath hitches as he pops them open and drags the zipper down. His fingers slide inside and he shoves them down my legs leaving me in just a pair of boxers.
And a near granite erection.
"Look at me." Duncan says as he stands again after squatting to guide my feet free. I turn eagerly, not wanting to miss a moment of him. His brown eyes are locked on mine as he reaches behind to tug his t-shirt over his head. The cotton blocks his face so instead, I salivate as I take in the wide expanse of his chest, the tight circles of his nipples, the trim taper of his waist.
He's a David, an Adonis. He's perfect.
Duncan tosses his t-shirt on my discarded shirt and then he works his belt open. I watch, transfixed, only vaguely registering the smirk he’s biting as he watches me. He pulls the leather swiftly from the loops, each pass making a satisfyingthwacksound.
Finally, he opens the front of his jeans but stops before I can see what he’s containing behind his fly. The waistband of his plaid boxers taunt me. He’s open, so close, and yet, so far.
He steps up to me and grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him for a bruising kiss. His taste is already familiar and I crave it.
With desperation, I shove my hand down his pants needing to feel him.
Needing to confirm he's as invested as I am.
He’s hot and heavy with arousal.
A whimper escapes between our lips.
Was that me?
Or him?
Or both of us?
"Fuck, yesss." He hisses as he pulls my lip out between his teeth.
I stroke his length roughly and he pushes into my hand for more. His hand never leaves the back of my head and he starts to weave his fingers into my hair, tugging the roots and sending shockwaves of pleasure to my toes.
But then all my attention narrows to where his finger has hooked into my boxers. A tiny square inch where I think my heartbeat now originates. It's slightly to the right of my navel, not far from the dusting of hair leading to my cock but not far enough to be my hip bone. It's this no-man's-land Duncan has claimed for himself.
My body becomes desperate for his touch. To feel his strong hand wrapped around my cock. My hips roll forward and crush what's left of the space between us and it was a mistake.
My movement causes his finger to slip from the spot I was planning to commemorate with a tattoo and I whine.
Duncan laughs into our kiss as his hand instead grips my ass.
His palm holds the muscle but his fingers pull to expose my crease and again, arousal floods through me.
I want him to know I want this so I stroke him tighter, faster, and let my fingers roll down over his testicles.
Duncan pulls back from the kiss and gasps for breath and tilts our foreheads together.
"Just hand jobs tonight, Rhys." He says and I almost drop him.
