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I’m on fire with how much I want him.
I can’t verbalise that while his mouth is on my throat, sharp teeth scraping, new beard raising goose bumps until I’m hot and cold all at the same time. I also laugh when he pulls back to wipe a strand of river weed away from his mouth that must have clung to me too.
“Off.” He tugs at my wetsuit zipper, yanking it down and peeling neoprene from me until my wetsuit drops to the floor in a wet puddle.
His gaze drops too, tracking my chest, my stomach, all the rest of me after I kick out of my boxers. Then his hand is on my cock, his tongue back in my mouth as water runs and steam starts to cloud the air.
The mirror reflects us—shows me naked while he isn’t—so I fix that. Our next skin-to-skin view mists and then is gone as soon as he backs me under running water.
This shower wasn’t designed for two men to share. It’s tight, but we slot together.
Haven’t we done that since that headland wedding? He held out a hand to me then. We’re as close again now, and it’s ironic that, after hurling ourselves downhill along with cubic tonnes of water, this is where I’m going to drown, but I have to get my mouth on him.
I sink to my knees. Rub my face against his hard and hot cock. Get the head of it into my mouth, and choke, but I’vealways been greedy once I get inspired—have to go all in and not stop until something else captures my attention.
Tonight?
I’ve never been more focussed. Never wanted to stay in one place like this. Now I can’t imagine taking a different path without him at the end of it.
He fills my mouth, my throat, and a space in my chest that has been hollow for so long I didn’t know it was empty. He’s so deep inside me, and who knows if his hips shifting is the cause or if it’s due to the water cascading over both of us. Either way, I have to pull off, my saliva connecting us for a glistening moment, and I never resented needing to breathe more. All I care about is taking him even deeper. I want him so much my hands shake like I’m the one who uses a chainsaw to make my living.
I steady mine by digging them into the meat of his bare arse, his cock in my mouth again, and a loud groan echoes.
Hayden lets out another, this groan quieter, a low, deep rumble I feel and hear at the same time, and soon I’ll show my students what drugs did to me and Mia on my own roll of paper, but that sound right there? It’s a high of my own, one I can’t help chasing.
It’s addictive.
Compulsive.
I need more, and I get it by clasping his arse even tighter. My head bobs, the head of his cock at the back of my throat, my tears washed away like the rest of the world is by a feedback loop of groans and motion.
And when I touch where he opens?
Hayden crumples.
Only for a split second. He recovers, one hand braced against tile, the other on my jaw to stop my movement. He looks down as I look up, and all I see is a repeat of what else I’ve drawn lately,what I can’t stop my stylus from recreating. He’s etched with care. With pleasure too, and that combination?
It’s explosive.
I want that. Need this quiet man to get so much louder. Make him lose a battle I’ve seen him fight with himself over and over ever since I met him.
All those times he could have been the centre of attention? When he could have shouted from the treetops about how much he has to offer?
He’s taken a step back. Stayed silent instead of bragging. Shown me a tough past while cradling each memory like those big hands of his might turn them to dust if he grips them too tightly.
Even now, I see his face after finding out those old goalposts were still where his dad once sunk them into concrete. I get a whole new goal of my own then. It coalesces right here in a shower too small for us, but which can’t contain this need to show him how I see him. And to stop holding back on this wild ride with me, only not down a helter-skelter river.
Water thunders. So does my heart, thundering with a beat I need to follow, and he’s a big guy who shouldn’t be easy for me to manhandle, but here we are, out of the shower and dripping, with him exactly where I need him, bent over the bathroom basin.
My cock presses the crease of his fucking gorgeous arse, and it’s my turn to let out a low rumble.
“Yeah?” I kiss one scarred shoulder, and he shivers. “You want it?”
The mirror over the basin reflects his steamy outline. His nod of agreement. His trembling point towards a cabinet where I find what I need for us.
Perhaps he doesn’t expect me to drop to my knees after getting myself ready.
Maybe it’s the surprise of me spreading his cheeks and my lips brushing where I want in that prompts more shaking. Or it could be the light flicks of my tongue setting off these whole-body shudders. He arches away like it’s too much, but he’s forgotten I’ve seen his default setting, and there’s no way I’m letting him keep acting like he doesn’t deserve to feel good.
