I leave my balls and touch my nipple ring, pulling at it until the nipple stretches out. He sucks in a startled breath and then leans over me, taking a close-up photo. This close, I can smell the tang of sandalwood mingling with clean sweat. His cock is hard and angry looking, reaching to his belly button, but he doesn’t make a move to touch himself, his whole focus on me.
I let my nipple go when the pleasure gets too much, and he settles back on his heels, still clicking away. I reach down and trace my finger over my perineum. When I get to my hole, I stroke gently over it, letting the moan catch at my throat.
“Do you want some lube?” he asks.
I nod, and he reaches into the bedside table for the bottle. “Hold out your hand.”
I raise my hand obediently, and with one hand, he squeezes the bottle. A spiral of lube oozes onto my fingers and glistens in the sunlight. He snaps a picture of the action with his other hand.
He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed and comes closer, running his hand down my body, still clicking away as we both watch his hand trace my abs, circle my belly button, and pause at the puddle of precome on my stomach. He runs his finger through it and then raises it to his lips.
“Delicious,” he whispers, his full lips sucking his finger and making me shudder.
I kick his leg. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be touching me. You have another job, Cameraman.”
He shoots me a wild-looking grin and retreats back to the end of the bed. He widens his legs and fists himself, shuttling his cock through a tight grip.
I rub lube on my fingers before inserting one into myself.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.”
I can’t find any words. Instead, I moan and arch up as my finger brushes my prostate. It isn’t as good as when he does it, but it’s almost as hot because he’s watching me with a single-minded focus and the ever-present click and whirr of the camera.
“Another,” he says hoarsely.
I scramble to obey, pushing two fingers into my hole, while stroking my cock with my other hand. He reaches out to grab his camera and leans close, his hair touching my thigh as he takes picture after picture. I imagine how I look stuffed and wide open, and the thought is almost too much. I grind down on my fingers, feeling the telltale tingling in my balls. I give a high moan, and he sits back. “Tell me when you’re going to come,” he orders.
“Now,” I manage to get out and feverishly tug on myself while riding my fingers. I grind down hard, feeling the bite of pain. His eyes are hot on me and look desperate and needy, and I’m suddenly there. My balls draw up, and I shout out his name as I arch and come onto my belly.
He hovers over me, taking picture after picture, his breathing heavy and frantic.
When I subside into the sheets, I remove my fingers and hold them out to him. He tosses his camera onto the bed and seizes my hand, taking the fingers into his mouth and sucking hard. The tug and pull is too much, and I shiver and come a little more in a startled little spasm.
“Yes,” he groans, and still sucking my fingers, he starts to stroke himself. “Can I come on you?” he asks, and I nod frantically, widening my legs so he can come even closer. It only takes two strokes, and he stripes my torso and belly with come, the liquid hot and feeling like it might scald my skin.
Then he collapses into the sheets next to me. I grab his camera and take a couple of shots of my come-covered belly. Setting it back on the bed, I edge closer and snuggle into him.
The room is full of our gulps of air, and I nestle into him as he strokes my hair. Then I laugh. “Fucking hell. That wasepic,” I proclaim. “You have the best ideas.”
“I really don’t.”
I laugh, and he reaches for his phone, holding it over us. I look up at it, still laughing as he takes a picture.
“That’s just for me,” he says, and I feel a deep thrill that he’ll remember me because of that photo, even if he doesn’t for any other reason. Maybe he’ll think back on this day in years to come. I’ll always remain youthful in his eyes, and there’s not much wrong with that. I throw my arm over his chest and kiss his cheek, nestling into his face. “Take another one,” I say against his cheek and smile when I hear the click.
He sets the phone on the bedside table and then sighs. The sound is weary, and I look up at him and groan. “Oh no. Are we at the fuck around and mope stage?”
He groans. “Please stop calling it that.”
“Well, it is a bit tedious.” I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The sweat on my body is suddenly cold. “Chill out. You go away tomorrow, and then you’ll forget all about little old me.”
I hear the peevishness in my voice even as he laughs, and my lips twitch to stop myself smiling. He drags me close. “I couldneverforget you,” he says softly. “I hope you look back on this time with fondness, although that sounds unduly optimistic.”
“It does if you’re saying it.” He digs a finger into my hip, and I yelp. “No, don’t tickle.” He stops, and I snuggle into him again and run my fingers over his chest, curling the hair there around my finger.
“Have you ever fucked Jez?” I ask idly.
He jumps like he’s been cattle prodded. “What thehell? No, of course not.”
