Page 51 of Compulsion

“No. This is good.” Seve’s smile was tight as, like me, he fought to postpone the inevitable ecstasy. He rolled against me, his breath harsh and shortening rapidly. Although the couch was a generous size, we were still awkwardly crushed together, but he never lost control of his hand, of me. We lay face-to-face, still fully clothed from the waist down except for our escaped pricks, and we jerked each other off like teenagers discovering each other and not yet prepared or experienced enough to go further. It took longer to come than I’d expected, though I’d been aroused so quickly—but that was part of the joy. We savored each other and the feel and touch of each other’s flesh, and it was very, very fucking good.

“Make as much noise you like,” Seve hissed in my ear. “No one will hear us.”

How did he know that was what I wanted? I was panting and swallowing moans in the back of my throat. I’d had to be quiet in some of the astonishing places we found to fuck, and I’d assumed that applied even to this private but pretty exclusive flat of his. But now I let go. I gave a loud, echoing yell, and my body arched up off the cushion as the climax racked through me. It was a brilliant, gasping relief to let the noise out, to express the shuddering pleasure that burst up through my cock, spewing hot and sticky come all over my stomach and Seve’s supple fingers. The world swam out of focus around me, and I clutched the arm of the couch, trying to anchor myself.

“Uh… Max… so good.” Seve’s voice was ragged as he shifted against me. His cock gave a sharp throb and I squeezed him one more time. He gave an impressively fierce yell of his own and jolted against me so that we both nearly rolled off the couch. Come spurted from his cock, his head pressed down hard on my shoulder, and I could feel the shudder rippling through him. I folded my arms around his chest and held him as he jerked and twitched. I could feel the thick gloopy stuff being squashed and spread all over our stomachs. We’d be well and truly messy together.

We lay for a minute or two, silent except for our heavy breath, and that slowed after a while. Seve didn’t pull away from my embrace, but I stirred awkwardly underneath him. “I need a shower.”

“Take one.” His voice was soft. “There’s plenty of hot water. Stay with me tonight.”

His face was close to mine, and I stared at the soft swelling of his lips where we’d kissed, where we’d snapped at each other’s tongue as the climaxes approached. He nuzzled my ear, his eyelashes brushing my temple. I knew what he wanted.

“I’ll stay, Seve. But just a shower. Just a bed. Nothing else tonight.”

He sat up stiffly, pulling his sweats back up around his waist. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I know. I heard you.” He got up off the couch, stretching the muscles of his shoulders in the graceful way he had. “You know the way to the bathroom, right?”

IT WAS an expensive shower with a booster pump, and the steaming water came out fierce and scalding hot, just as I liked it. It felt like a guilty pleasure, enjoying the fast-flowing water and good soap. Pampering my aching body, reveling in the sensual delight of touching everywhere for a perfectly good and yet purely selfish reason.

I stood for a long time, checking out any new bruises, pleased to find I wasn’t seriously damaged from my new hobby of throwing myself at locked doors. I washed my hair a couple of times, running my fingers through the kinks. Streams of hot water ran down my back, fast and furious, and I luxuriated in it. How good it’d be to wash the whole damn lot away! The present confusion and the whole of the miserable past. The loss of my friendships and my innocence. The missed opportunities—the sense of constant failure. Perhaps that was exactly what I was trying to do. I rubbed harshly at my skin so that it began to burn with sensation. I washed out the smell of Seve and his leather couch, of Peck’s cigarette ash, of the club, of the bleak backyard….

I felt Seve there, in the room, seconds before I turned and saw him. I was in searingly hot water, but goose bumps scattered across my body. He’d drawn aside the shower curtain, and clouds of steam floated gently out over the whole room. He stood there, watching me, tall and still and completely nude. Steam condensed on his shoulders and chest and made his cropped hair look blacker and sleeker.

“Max.” His eyes were bright like a fox’s in the moonlight, and his gaze ran from my legs up my naked, dripping torso to my face. They lingered there. Perhaps there was a question in his eyes—perhaps it was just lust.

“Not tonight, Seve.”

“I know. I just want to watch you.”

I looked down at his cock, which was thick and erect again. Jutting high and swollen, reaching for me. Free of its confines, it sprang out from the curly black nest of hair. Seve sucked in his stomach with a tight breath. He really wanted me.

“You want to take care of that, Seve?”

“What do you mean?”

I smiled. A trail of water ran down my cheek, and I licked it into my mouth. “Let me watch as well. Do it for me, Seve. Touch yourself.”

There was that same look on his face, like the first time I’d sucked him off and swallowed his come. Was this something he’d never done? Yet I knew how he liked to watch me jerking myself off. Seve still had a lot to learn, it seemed. I leaned back against the tiles of the shower cubicle and turned the water flow down. The dribble of water continued to run down over my skin, but now it caressed my growing erection. Seve’s naked body was a sight for sore eyes. I wrapped a hand lazily around myself and gestured for him to continue.

He was staring at my cock and he licked his lips. Yeah, I thought. Perhaps that’d be next. “Do it, Seve. Don’t touch me—touch yourself. I want to see it.”

He paused only a moment, as if he weighed up his appetite for it. And he obviously found he was hungry enough. He took a step back, leaned his hips against the washbasin and tugged gently at his cock, freeing some sticky hairs. I could see his shiver—I could see how much he wanted satisfaction. For a second or two, he looked hesitant, but then he curled his hand around his cock and began to stroke himself.

I gave a moan and his gaze darted up to my face. His eyes were only half-focused. He spread his fingers and started to run them up and down his cock. There was no sound except for the musical trickle of water from the shower, and Seve’s low panting. The soles of my feet squeaked on the tiles as I sought for better purchase to support myself.

“Is this what you want, Max?” His gaze was now fastened on my groin as I fondled my dick. I couldn’t have held back on pain of hideous torture—the sight of Seve was too exciting. His free hand gripped the edge of the basin, the knuckles whitening. His lips were slightly parted, moist with his saliva, and his mustache looked damp on his top lip. All the time I watched, his hips moved against his hand. The muscles of his arm tightened and relaxed; the definition of his chest and abdomen flexed sharply as he rolled his palm around his cock with a deep, familiar deliberation.

“Yeah. That’s just what I want.” I could feel the terrible, tortuous ache of need coiling in my groin again. He was gorgeous—he was a work of art. He was doing this for me.

“You want more, Max?” The words came out on a series of staggered breaths. Seve took his free hand away from the basin and slid it down behind his back. “I want more.”

I blinked some stray water out of my eyes. “You got toys?”

Seve gave a thin smile. “Not here.” The inference was I’m not moving right now.

I took a deep breath. “So you know what to do.”

He nodded. “And you will watch.”