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“Come here,” he said once I was naked, his voice hoarse.

“I need to wash.”

“I’ll do it.”

Intrigued by the offer, I stepped forward. “Is this an army thing? After a long day spent soldiering, did you guys used to rub each other down? I might have joined if I knew that sort of thing went on.”

Turning me around, he pulled me back against him, the heated length of his rapidly swelling erection pressing against my arse. I wriggled a bit, the movement doing what I’d intended and forcing a gasp from Keaton’s lips. “Stay still.”

“Or what?”

“Or there’ll be trouble.”

“What sort of trouble? I happen to like trouble. It keeps things interesting.”

“I know you do.” The sponge came to rest on my chest, Keaton dragging it in lazy circles that were far more arousing than they were functional, especially when he spent an inordinate amount of time on each nipple. The sponge eventually slid down, Keaton grinding himself against me as he dragged it over my abdomen.

He shifted himself so that rather than butting against the swell of my arse, he rode the crack instead. I leaned back against him, giving myself up to his ministrations and trusting he’d hold me up.

The scar on my thigh got attention from the sponge before my cock and balls did. It felt good against my hard length, but it wasn’t a hand. I put up with it, figuring we’d get there eventually. I just needed to be patient.

Keaton pulled my head to one side, his lips coming to rest on the hard cord of my neck. His hips and hand still moved in a way that was admirable, given the duality of both movements. I made a mental note to ask if he could rub his belly and pat his head at the same time.

“That first night,” Keaton said, his words vibrating against my skin. “Do you know what I wanted to do?”

“No.” I reached behind, grabbing a handful of muscular arse and encouraging him to move faster, to grind harder.

“I wanted to say to hell with the rain and charge out into that courtyard. I wanted to take you right there with everyone watching.”

There was no stopping the grin on my face. “You and everyone else. I’m glad you didn’t, though. It would have really ruined my sales pitch.”

His other hand rested on my abdomen as he continued to soap up my cock, working up quite the lather. “And I hated the fact that I still wanted you when I discovered you told lies.”

“And now?”

“And now I don’t give a flying fuck about the past. There’s only here, and there’s only now.” He punctuated his words by dropping the sponge and spinning me around. Then he kneeled, swallowing my cock. I was surprised enough to nearly lose my balance, catching myself by holding onto Keaton’s shoulders.

He had a remarkably talented mouth, the waves of desire as he took me right to the back of his throat, forcing me to close my eyes and block the visual stimuli if I didn’t want to come too soon. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to leave bruises, the slight bite of pain only heightening the sensations.

He alternated between taking me deep and tonguing my slit. When one soapy finger slid questioningly between my arse cheeks, I widened my stance to give him permission. It teased around the rim for so long that I wanted to scream. Finally, though, when I was about to push him off and call him all the names under the sun, it slid in. Keaton once again proved himself the master of coordinating actions, tongue, finger, and throat all involved this time.

I rode the waves of sensation for as long as I could before giving in to them. Despite my hastily delivered warning of impending orgasm, Keaton stayed on my cock, swallowing down every drop of cum I had to give and licking my shrinking cock clean. I opened my eyes as he sat back on his haunches, his expression smug. “You swallowed,” I said.

He tipped his head back, eyes shining and with a smile on his lips. Like the cat that had gotten the fucking cream. Only he wasn’t a cat, and the cream was cum. “Maybe it will make me immune.”

The absurdity of the comment made me laugh. “That sounds like science straight out of the Osvaldo Conway playbook.”

Keaton looked genuinely affronted at that. “Jesus! If I ever turn into that freak, you have my permission to put me down with my own crossbow.”

“Deal.” My gaze fastened on Keaton’s stiff cock, a bead of pre-cum on the tip. “What do you want to do about that? Want me to return the favor?”

He shook his head, circling his finger in a silent instruction for me to turn around again. Not asking why didn’t come easily, but I figured the least I could do in return for a great orgasm was to do it with minimal fuss.

He stood, front plastered to my back, cock once more riding my crack. “Like this,” he said.

I laid my head back against his shoulder and let him do his thing, long slow thrusts changing to quicker, more urgent jabs as he grew closer to coming.

“Yeah, give it to me,” I said. “Show me what you’ve got.”