Page 52 of Compulsion

I stared, fascinated, as he wriggled his arse and reached his hand down between his cheeks. I couldn’t see, of course, but I had a bloody good imagination. He leaned forward, his buttocks still balanced against the basin and his other hand firmly around his cock. He winced very briefly. The muscles of his lower arm flexed as he probed into himself.

“Shit.” I realized how quickly a tease could turn into playing with fire. I wasn’t really aware of how tightly I was clutching my cock—only of the sudden desire to start pumping. I braced my legs so my footing was more secure in the tray of swirling water, then leaned against the shower wall and thrust into my hand in earnest. My other hand helped support me, until I gave in to temptation and moved it around my hip to reach my buttocks. I sucked in a breath and brushed a fingertip over my entrance. The sensation made my cock jerk and my skin shiver with need.

Seve moaned and his eyes closed briefly. I wondered how many fingers he had inside him. How often he did this to himself. Whether he’d let me do it to him—and soon! Then his eyes flashed open again and I could see new sweat on his brow. His hips were rolling steadily between the pressure of his hand at the front and his fingers at the back.

“Is this what you want?” he repeated. The atmosphere seemed a hell of a lot steamier in here than it had been fifteen minutes earlier. His cock strained up out of his fist, the fierce red tip shining, damp from precome and the water vapor in the room. The tendons on his hand were raised, the veins purplish.

“Come for me, baby,” I said raggedly. I dipped the very end of my finger into my hole, letting it be sucked into the soft heat. “Are you close?”

“Damn close.” His eyes were glazing over, even as he stared back at me.

“So, come.”

He did. His eyes widened, his mouth opened in a soundless cry, and he thrust back against the fingers up his arse. He gave a couple more strokes to his cock and it jerked inside his grip. The tip swelled, then the seed spilled out the top and over his hand. His fingers clamped on tightly like they’d become part of the stiff column of flesh, and the arm hugging his arse went rigid. Through it all, his gaze was on me, his dilated pupils fixed on my face. It was the most exciting thing I’d ever seen.

“Seve….” I never finished any coherent sentence. My cock thickened in my fist and my belly clenched instinctively. My wet hair fell over my eyes and my vision was misted, but I could see Seve staring back at me, smiling wearily and fondling his softening cock. Then I yelled and together we watched the come burst out of me and splatter onto the tiles of the shower floor.

IT TOOK me a longer time than usual to dry myself and gather my wits. My muscles ached, both from the earlier bruising and from the excitement in the bathroom. I glanced in the mirror and winced at the tangled mess of my hair that’d need some serious combing in the morning. But I’d rarely felt so deliciously exhausted. The light was dimmed when I went into Seve’s bedroom, and I didn’t bother putting my boxers back on. No point in being coy now. Seve was already in bed, lying on his side, propped up on a hand. Watching the doorway—waiting for me. There was a sheet over him, but it left very little to the imagination.

“Come to bed, Max.”

I slid in beside him. It was a shock of delight to feel his fresh, cool skin against mine again. I almost groaned when I felt my cock give a little hiccup of hopeful lust. Whatever I wanted of Seve, I didn’t think I’d be up to much more tonight.

And—surprisingly—Seve seemed just as relaxed about it. I could feel the life returning to his cock as well, nudging at my stomach under the sheet. But he didn’t make another move on me. For a while, all he did was kiss me and stroke gently at my skin. I began to relax. I was ready for a bloody long sleep, which meant I’d probably have to cry off the overtime I’d half promised over this weekend, despite needing the double-time pay. Seve was bad for my employment record.

“So…,” he said. “Baby?”

I flushed. “It was in the heat of the moment,” I protested. “It didn’t mean anything, okay?”

He chuckled. “I don’t mind. At times like that… call me what you like.”

I tried to drift off to sleep, but obviously not hard enough. My mind returned to our earlier conversation. “Seve? What will happen to you if the police catch up with your uncle?”

“Hmm?” He sounded half-asleep already. “I’ll be fine. I’m not involved, right? Mama will handle it.”

“Your mother?”

He yawned, his jaw pressing on my shoulder. “If I find any evidence, she says she’ll take it to the board. They won’t dare to ignore her. She’s a Medina.”

True, but she was also only one person. For some reason, I wasn’t as reassured as Seve obviously was. “I have evidence, Seve.”

Seve’s fingertips stroked aimlessly down my arm. “Then you must meet my mother!” He chuckled again, but tiredly. “Talk about it tomorrow, Max. We’ll work it out tomorrow. Decide what to do, who to see. Okay?”

I lay still, thinking.

Seve continued, “This man Peck… I don’t want you to come up against him again. You mustn’t put yourself at risk. I don’t want anything to hurt you. I want you in my bed again. I want you in my bed every night.” His voice was lower now, and it lulled me in a warm, comfortable way, like hot chocolate on its way down my throat.

“I have my own bloody bed,” I said. It just sounded childish.

Seve made a sharp tsk noise. “I don’t want to own you, Max. For God’s sake, isn’t there a middle ground? I don’t know how to say it… I’ve never said….”

And I didn’t want to hear—not at that moment. There was something else attracting my attention. The sound of a door lock being cracked open was unmistakable. To me, that is, who’d broken into a few deserted buildings in my time as a squatter. But I’d never entered an occupied one. I sat up in the bed.

“Max?”

I put a hand to Seve’s mouth, warning him to be silent. He understood immediately and nodded. I listened for a few seconds more and couldn’t hear anything. But that didn’t mean things were okay.

“Stay here,” I whispered. I slid off the side of the bed, groping for my jeans. I didn’t want to face a burglar—or any other threat—stark naked.