Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AMES
“Is this the next lesson?” Robbie says with familiar affection as I drag him toward the bathroom. “Cleaning up after sex?”
He follows without protest, which is kind of his default, but takes over when I try to reach into the glass shower and turn on the water.
“Take a breath and stand here,” he tells me, shooting me a look as he positions me beside the vanity. “Try not to reinjure yourself more than you already have.”
I open my mouth to clap back that I’m perfectly capable of running my own shower, since the mirror’s still fogged up from my last one, for god’s sake… but he’s not entirely wrong about reinjuring myself, so I shut up.
Now that the endorphins are wearing off, I have to admit—not out loud, obvs—I may have gotten a little too enthusiastic about Robbie’s first blowjob, and my collarbone’s throbbing as a result.
But what was I gonna do, not make it perfect? Pfft . YOLO, baby. If Robbie is going to have his bisexual experimentation era, I’m going to ride the ride as long as I can, even if it includes moments of temporary sex-induced panic.
I’d thought Robbie would be a little too busy to notice my discomfort, but of course not.
He cranks the water on and stands there looking slightly dazed while it heats. His hair’s sticking up in about a billion directions from where I ran my hand through it.
“Y’good?” I ask softly.
He blinks, and then his entire face lights up.
“Yeah. Fuck, I’m great . I just got the best blowjob of my life from the sexiest guy on the planet…
” He gives me his trademark grin—the one that’s always made it impossible not to kiss him.
“…who also happens to be my best friend. This is next-level. Why didn’t you tell me it was so good with guys?
” he teases. “You been holding out on me?”
I snort and step past him under the spray. “Guys, plural? Please. You have a sample size of one.” I force myself to add, “For now.”
Robbie steps in behind me, all those broad shoulders, long limbs, and golden skin making my extra-large shower feel teeny tiny. “It’s funny, ’cause I’m pretty sure I’ve been checking out guys in locker rooms for years; I just didn’t know that’s what I was doing. I mean, I thought everyone did it.”
He ducks his head under the spray, and when he looks at me again, his eyelashes are all clumped together, anime-style. “Just kinda… comparing, you know?”
I snort and reach for my bodywash. “Robbie, you’re built like a fucking Greek statue. What were you comparing, exactly?”
“I dunno. Not, like, dick length or whatever?—”
I roll my eyes. “Because there’s no competition.” Robbie’s dick is the biggest I’ve seen in the flesh, so to speak. And yes, I have looked. Many times. Despite my best efforts.
He takes the bodywash from me and pours three times too much into his palm before running soapy hands over my shoulders, careful of my bruises.
I can’t hold back a groan, so I don’t. Instead, I sink into whatever strange blip of reality that’s led us here to this moment of temporary insanity.
Having Robbie’s big hands on my naked, wet body is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let my fears prevent me from enjoying it.
The freak-out can wait until later. For now, I’m content to feel his big hands on me while he talks about firefighters in the locker room shower.
“It’s not like I’d think ‘Bob’s hotter than Dale’ or ‘Boy, I’d like to touch that ass.’ Nothing that obvious. And… let’s be honest, Amesie. You’ve seen the guys we work with. That locker room’s not spank bank material.”
I laugh. “True.”
“But I specifically remember noticing things about you. Your abs. The line of hair you’ve got right here and how…
how masculine it is.” He runs a soapy finger over my thick happy trail, and I shiver.
My dick starts to feel heavy, even though I just got off a few minutes ago.
“But also other stuff. Like how your shoulders bunch up when you’re drying off and how…
safe it makes me feel? Is that weird?” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable despite the shared orgasms and the fact that we’re naked and soaping each other up.
“Also your, uh… your armpits. They’re really hairy, and…
I think I thought I was just jealous because I’m not built like that, but now I…
I realize it’s because they’re hot.” His eyes meet mine, and he bites his lip. “I’m being dumb, right?”
He’s so freaking cute .
I talk a good game, but there hasn’t been a moment in sixteen years when my heart hasn’t been a bubbly pot of melty goo for this man. Yet somehow, anytime he gets all earnest like this, I manage to melt a little more.
Which, yes, is scary as fuck.
I turn and face him, taking some of the soapy suds off my own skin and rubbing them into his chest, if only so I can cop a cheap feel of his pecs and hardened nipples.
It’s just washing. The job we came here to do.
“I notice those things too, Rob. But when you’re gay and everyone knows you’re gay, it’s different. I try not to be obvious so I don’t make people uncomfortable. Especially you .” The last words come out a little sharper than I intended.
Robbie nods, thoughtful and a little chastened, and I want to kick myself for ruining the moment. But if it’s ruined, Robbie doesn’t seem to notice.
He smiles at me again. “I counted your freckles once.”
My hands still on the hard planes of his obliques. “You… what?”
“Summer after senior year. We were both working for your dad at the lumberyard, and we were probies at the station too, so we were tired as fuck, remember? You fell asleep out at the lake on your stomach?— ”
I move my fingers over the ridges of his abdomen, sneaking a long peek at the heavy cock hanging between his thighs. For once, I don’t need to glance away. “I do not remember this,” I say, trying desperately to maintain a few working brain cells so I can stay in the conversation with him.
“Why would you, I guess?” He shrugs, and the water falls in a cascade around us. “It was like a thousand other times. Except this time, while you were sleeping on your stomach, I counted the freckles on your back. Forty-three,” he says proudly, though his ears have gone red.
“Now, that is…” I shake my head and stare at him.
“Weird?” he supplies. “Yeah.” He twirls one finger, telling me to turn around, and I see him reach for the shampoo.
Weird wasn’t the word I was going to say, but I don’t correct him. The things I might have said, like adorable , and breathtaking , and mind-blowing , are all way too revealing.
“It’s probably a good thing you never told me,” I say as he scrubs my hair gently. “I would’ve been all over you. More than I already was. Woulda sent you running.”
“Maybe,” he says quietly. “Or not. I don’t know.” His broad palm traces down my back, from my nape to the very top of my ass crack, then lingers. I have to resist the urge to get up on my tiptoes to encourage him to explore lower. “I’m just so fucking glad I’m here now.”
I am too.
Of course I am.
Because he’s my best friend, and I want him to know all the things about himself.
And because I’m living the dream. For as long—or short —a time as it lasts .
Robbie carefully draws me against him, my wet back to his chest, and kisses my neck.
Little-known fact: I am a slut for neck kisses.
Nipples, meh . Armpits, eh . But my neck is one giant, exposed erogenous zone that’s spent nearly thirty years just hanging out, waiting for someone to take their time—and their tongue—and make me lose my mind.
It’s rare that anyone pays much attention because that’s not how hookups work.
But Robbie… he’s got nothing but time. And so fucking much attention.
He starts just below my ear, his lips so soft and hot they brand my skin.
Each open-mouthed kiss lingers, every warm puff of his breath sends a jolt down my spine.
Then he drags his mouth lower, to the sensitive dip where my neck meets my shoulder, his teeth just grazing.
Just teasing. My skin prickles with goose bumps everywhere, and I can feel my pulse thrumming under his lips and in my dick.
I have to bite back a moan.
“You like that,” he murmurs, voice rough against the shell of my ear and hands slipping sensually over my front with soapy ease.
It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. Which is fine since Robbie’s not waiting on me.
He’s already working his way to the other side, his tongue lightly tracing the taut tendon that runs from my ear to my injured collarbone.
When he finds a spot that makes my breath hitch—right over my jugular—he lingers, sucking gently at first with slow, deliberate pressure that rips a whimper from my throat.
The wet heat of his mouth, the faint scrape of his stubble, the way his fingers flex against my sides, holding me in place… it’s a lot. Too much. Not enough.
My cock is hardening again, and I can’t help but feel his against the top of an ass cheek.
A tiny puff of air escapes me. Barely a breath. But he notices. And I notice him noticing.
One of his hands slides up to the base of my throat, holding me steady while his mouth continues its slow, methodical exploration.
He’s not just kissing me. He’s cataloging my reactions.
Marking my shivers and every involuntary roll of my hips as I rock back against him.
It’s so patient—so Robbie —it feels more intimate than anything I’ve ever done with anyone.
When he finally bites down on the tendon in my neck—sharp, then soothed by the flat of his tongue—I can’t hold back a moan.
Robbie’s answering groan vibrates against my skin. “I want to touch you.” His voice is low and unsteady in my ear.
“Y-you are touching me?—”
“More, Ames. I want more. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
I feel like that should be my line, but I manage to nod my head convulsively. “Yes. Yeah. Anywhere. Please .”