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Me.
The initial seconds seemed awkward. We stared at each other, breathless, wordless, not blinking, as if civilizations might collapse if we didn’t somehow find our way to the other.
Rivulets of water cascaded down his sculpted muscles, pooling at the tile at our feet. I wanted to drink that water off him. I needed to know what his skin felt like, tasted like, how he might fit himself against my body, as if he was molded to fit me exactly.
Then Matty’s hand was at my waist, the other at the back of my head, and almost by magic I was pinned between him and the cool shower wall, his lips frantically capturing mine.
The hard plane of his chest and hips pressed firmly into mine, one thigh wedged between my legs, his cock sliding against mine. Sandwiched as we were, as Matty gyrated his hips against mine, a continuous, sensual pleasure pressed in from all sides.
Waves of hedonistic pleasure spread from my groin, fanning out like lightning bolts to the rest of my body.
“Fuck, Matty,” I hissed. I was already dizzy and out of breath.
Even two minutes seemed like a stretch.
“Ciaran,” he said, his tongue sliding into my mouth as he captured my moans. “God, I need you.” It might have been a whisper but I heard it like a battle cry.
I returned the kiss like my life depended on it. My hands roamed down his back and cupped his firm ass.
A growl and a rowdy thrust of Matty’s hips were my reward. The added pleasure nearly sent me into a climax. I still couldn’t believe I was in a shower with Matthias Vaulteneau.
I broke our kiss. “If you keep that up,” I grunted, like a caveman with a single-track mind, “I’m going to come all over you. Have pity on me by slowing down.”
“Sorry.” Matty took a small step back to put a few inches between us. He slicked his hair back again. I marveled at his sculpted biceps and shoulders. “I can’t control myself when it comes to you.”
Lust surged through me.
“I want to touch you, explore you,” I said. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
I reduced the strength of the shower spray and found the body wash. “Let me wash you.”
“Okay.”
What I really wanted to do was massage him. I knew I wouldn’t last long if he touched my dick, so I wanted to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible. Touching Matty would be a source of pleasure for me.
Hopefully he’d enjoy it, too.
With a large dollop of shower gel in my hands, I moved behind Matty and started at his shoulders. My fingers and palms easily glided across his muscles and I was able to dig in at the right spots while being careful of his injured shoulder.
Matty’s moans filled the room as I rubbed down his back, shoulders, and arms.
“Does that feel okay?” I asked.
“Fucking amazing, Ciaran. I didn’t think it was possible, but my dick is even harder.”
I chuckled. Having control felt surprisingly good.
“Let’s see if I can best that,” I said as I pressed myself against his back, my arms sliding around to his front to rub his chest.
My cock jutted against his ass cheeks and I had visions of Matty doing this to me. In all my fantasies, even in those before meeting Matty, I’d never envisioned myself topping someone.
But when Matty arched his back, I saw the appeal. I still wasn’t sure if it was for me, but we’d cross that bridge if it came up.
“Jesus,” he hissed as my teeth nipped at his shoulder blades. My tongue came away with soapy bubbles. His gasps came in short bursts, as if he were fighting for oxygen.
That made two of us, especially as my hands traveled from his chest down to his waist.
