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I stroke my thumb beside the screen where his name is, then tap a line for new text. My heart thuds in my chest. I don’t know what to say. I know what I want to tell him, but the idea of putting it all out there is making me anxious.

I don’t want to look like a fool.

Me: I’m about to hop in the shower.

Easton: Naked?

Me: No. Fully clothed.

The fact that he asked that is so him, and the fact that he replied immediately is also not a surprise.

Easton: Prove it.

My heart starts to thunder in my chest, and I take a deep breath as I turn toward the mirror. The sink blocks most of what he probably wants to see, but there’s a hint. A bit of dark hair and the base of my dick, which is clearly visible.

I suck in a breath, then hold the phone up and snap a shot. My hand is covering my face, but the rest of me is very, very visible. My hair is down, resting over my left shoulder, and I can clearly see the mark he left behind.

I don’t let myself overthink it. It’s not worth it.

I hit Send, then slam the phone down and walk over to the shower to start the water.

Fuck, what if that was a mistake? What if he’s with people? What if he shows them so they can all laugh at how sorry and pathetic and desperate I am.

What if⁠—

PING!

My heart threatens to escape my body as I turn back toward the sink. The water starts immediately hot, so steam begins to curl at my back as I reach for it, and my hands are shaking a little as I tap the screen and see there’s a photo waiting for me.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh—

Easton: This is what you do to me.

The photo shows as much of him as I had given of myself. His neck, the tattoo over his right pec, his nipples. There’s a trail of dark hair that goes from his sternum and curls around his belly button. Then there are boxer briefs pulled down just enough for me to see the hard base of his cock, and they don’t hide anything in the outline when it comes to his erection.

My mouth goes instantly dry, and it’s only when I notice the mirror starting to fog that I realize I need to actually take my shower.

I’m hard as a rock though.

Me: You’d better do something about that.

Easton: I will. And you?

Me: Getting in the shower now. Feel free to use your imagination.

Easton: Will you give me a demo later?

Me: … Yes.

The warm water does nothing to alleviate my hard-on. I have no other choice but to brace my hand on the wall, spread my legs, and stroke my dick until I come. I do it to thoughts of him—to the image of the photo, to the memory of how he felt against me.

I can feel the echo of his dick in my hand, and the way he nutted all over me, and the knowledge that I was his first man—that he was getting off with a man for his first time, and it was against my skin.

“Uhg, god,” I grunt as softly as I can manage. My dick thickens and kicks, then spills, shooting spurts of come at my feet.