Okay.All in.
I patted my thighs. “Come here.”
He stepped between my legs, feet soundless on a carpet turned gray by the absence of light. I curved my hands around the backs of his legs and traced a path up—over the gentle swell of his ass, the dip at the small of his back. Warm, smooth skin. He watched me with slightly parted lips, waiting.
When I pressed down on his shoulders, he sank to the floor with easy grace, shoulders slotted between my legs. Surreal—an hour ago, I’d ordered a lonely drink to drown a day that’d been more paperwork than patients, and now a living fever dream was kneeling by my feet, pupils blown wide.
He was hard. Performance art or authentic? Fuck if I could tell the difference.
I dragged a thumb along his lower lip. “Comfortable?”
“Fine.” A flash of mischief. “Decent view.”
“Good. Then keep your eyes on it.” My fingers briefly tangled in his hair before I unbuckled my belt—slowly, buying time to watch him. His expression flickered with something, then he glanced up at me and raised his hands to help, touch warm and sure, deft with the zipper. I freed my cock, pants hanging open, boxers shoved down just enough to bunch underneath, and his breath hitched enough to register. Real or not? God, who even knew. I’d always thought it mattered, that being wanted was half the fun. He made me forget to care.
“Hands behind your back,” I said.
He obeyed as if he wanted to, wrists clasped, chest lifting as he inhaled. The position bared him, vulnerable in a way that pulled at me like gravity.
So. This was why people dropped hundreds on a single night, then.
I swept the thought into a darkened corner of the room and focused on now, him. “Beautiful,” I told him, more honest than I’d intended.
His smile made it worth it—pleased, surprised, as if he didn’t actually hear it all the time. He tracked it when I stroked my cock once, twice, then tapped the tip against his mouth.
“Open.” Not a question, not quite an order.
The first slide of his mouth made my brain white out. Oh, fuck. Wet heat, a hint of teeth, clever tongue. No porn theatrics, no fake moans, just a slow and thorough focus. His shoulders gleamed, skin paled by the shadows that wrapped us up. He met my gaze and held it.
I kept one hand around the base of my cock and cupped the other around the back of his head—guiding but not forcing anything. His cheeks hollowed as he set a rhythm. When I brushed a thumb through the soft hair at his nape, he hummed gentle approval. I felt it vibrate in my stomach and spine.
Who are you?
I didn’t ask, not even sure where it had come from. “Touch yourself,” I said instead, my voice the weight of gravel.
He was quick to obey, one hand slipping down to his own cock. I couldn’t see clearly, only caught his rhythm in the flex of his arm, timed to echo each move of his mouth on me. But—God. It sent curling heat through my chest, spiraling higher and faster.
Deeper. I tightened my hold on him, just by a fraction. “Close,” I warned—him or me, wasn’t even sure.
He pulled off with a wet slurp, fuckingobscenein the quiet room, his lips shining. “In my mouth or on my face?” he asked, voice hoarse and pupils so wide they nearly swallowed his irises. Couldn’t fake that. Could you?
“Mouth.”
A tiny grin, as if he approved of my plan. Then he tilted his chin up and I slid back between his parted lips, stopped fighting the pull. Two thrusts, three—deeper now so I could feel his throat working, his breath coming out in half-choked gasps. Reality blurred and narrowed into a white burst of static. Yeah.Oh.
“Finn.”
He pulled back just long enough to mumble, “C’mon, yeah,” and that—yes. He sank back down.Game over.
Not sure what sounds I made, words or just noise. He took it, swallowed around me as I slumped back onto the bed like a melting puppet. Strings cut, thoughts a shambles, the ceiling tilting through my vision. Vaguely aware he kept stripping his own cock.
I wanted to see.Neededto see.
I eased out of his mouth and managed to prop myself up on my elbows. He looked up at me, smiling a little, so slight it was more like a faint tug to the corners of his spit-slick lips, hand going still.
“Show me,” I said, nodding down at his fist.
He raised his head, smile growing. “Yeah?”
