He crooked his finger, beckoning me close, and I gladly obeyed that too, letting him run his hands over the clinging wet fabric of my shirt. “You’re not allowed to take any of this off.”
“I don’t need to,” I said, and slid my hands beneath the elastic of both his shorts and boxers, pushing them down. “But you do.”
Miles was hard and groaned as I took him in my hand. “Fuck, I want you in me,” he said, gesturing to the sideboard. “Top drawer.”
Because of course he had been prepared, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn down fucking him anywhere he wanted it.
While I slicked up, he pulled off his shirt and perched atop the sideboard, one foot up leaving him invitingly spread as he watched me. “Speaking of horny magazine spreads . . .” I murmured, tracing a finger from his balls to his hole. “This pose would sell out print runs.”
“Ah, but this one is just for you,” he said, tilting his head back against the wall, the jutting ridges of his throat making beautiful lines.
I set the tip of my cock against him. “All mine? I like the sound of that very much.”
“All yours,” he confirmed, ending on a pleased hum as I pressed slowly inside. Even after so many weeks, the first moments of pushing into him were still unbelievable – the heat and the tightness and the sheer unforgettable fact that it washimand he loved it.
“You feel so good,” I whispered against his temple when I was all in and never wanted to move again.
“So do you.” His hands slid down my back, catching slightly on the damp fabric of my shirt. Once he reached my arse, he pulled me hard against him like our closeness hadn’t been quite close enough. “I could stay right here forever.”
“Mmm, except that Tina needs you downstairs at seven and probably without my dick in you.”
Tightening his hold, he groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been without you too many days to care what Tina says.”
“You mean two days.”
“Two days too many!” he laughed, wiggling his arse against me in growing impatience. “God, Mat, I know what you’re doing but this is torture.”
“Torture, huh?” I rocked a few infinitesimal thrusts against him. “I could do that.”
“Damnit, you’re such a rotten tease!” His laugh became a growl and he dug his fingernails into my arse cheeks like that was anything but adorable.
“Yes,” I said, “and?”
“AndI take everything back! You look ridiculous. White doesn’t even suit you. Who even does—”
I leaned in, crushing him against the wall, his legs up on my shoulders like he was a folded lawn chair. “You want me to fuck you?” I said, teasing the head of his cock with light touches. “Then beg.”
Miles shivered, his eyelids fluttering in sheer delight at this sudden manhandling. “Please, Mat,” he breathed. “Please, fuck me.”
“With pleasure.”
While he balanced his weight on his arms, I gripped his thighs, lifting him enough to pound into him the way he liked, earning a guttural, “fuck,yes!” After that, he tried to bite his tongue, but with every thrust the sideboard thudded against the wall and he soon gave up trying to be discreet, instead letting out the most delicious moans.
Without a free hand to stroke him, I hadn’t been sure I could get him there this way, but the days waiting or my wet clothes or this particular position had excited him enough that he came fast and hard and fuck it was hot. He had been on magazine covers and in TV ads and was a massive star of our sport, yet the hottest thing about him were these raw moments where he was wholly unguarded, at one with the visceral desires of his body.
I’d been holding back, thinking I would need to last much longer, and staring at the cum on his stomach with an appreciative, “fuck!” I kept going. With hitched little moans, Miles encouragedme on like he did when we were training, only instead of ‘one more, you’ve got this’ it was ‘fuck yes, Mat, use me, come in me, do it’. Not a difficult command to obey.
Once I was done, he wrapped his long legs tightly around me so I couldn’t pull out. “That was fucking amazing,” he said. “We should do that more often.”
“Which part?”
“All of it. Although . . .” Miles plucked at my sleeve, peeling it off my skin with a theatrical grimace. “This must be uncomfortable.”
“It’s actually not that bad,” I said, and rubbed my sodden chest against his with a grin. “Better than playing in high humidity and dripping sweat everywhere. I, uh . . . may have to borrow some clothes to make it back to my room though.”
Wrapping his arms around me, he buried his laughter into the side of my neck. “Oh my god, I love you, you idiot.”
My heart swelled. “I love you, too.”
