10. Vincent #2
This wasn't my plan when I hopped in the shower, but fuck if I'm gonna say that I don't love this feeling.
He thrusts into his fist, rubbing his cock against mine.
His mouth is back on my shoulder, trailing kisses up to my neck, where he bites down gently before trailing up to my ear. I moan as he nibbles on my earlobe.
“Fuck, this is so hot, Vince,” he pants in my ear as we continue to thrust into his fist, getting faster and faster as he goes.
“I know, baby,” I say, unable to help myself.
He pulls back and glances into my eyes, meeting them, and I can see the unasked question in his eyes. Trying to avoid it, I look down, watching our cocks together.
“Fuck, that's so hot,” I pant.
He uses his head to nuzzle my nose, moving my face upwards enough that he can kiss me.
It's what I was trying to avoid, but fuck if I can't deny having his mouth on mine.
If he wants it, if he's giving this to me, I can't turn him away.
Our lips clash together as our tongues tangle, licking into each other's mouths as we continue to thrust into Tate’s fist.
Our thrusts get faster and faster, getting closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. Tate bites down on my lower lip, and I release all over him, unable to hold back any longer.
“Fuck, did you just cum?” He groans, feeling my cock throbbing against his.
“Yes. Yes,” I pant.
“Oh, fuck, that's so hot,” he moans.
Thrusting twice more before his cum joins mine, washing down the shower drain.
My limbs feel loose and heavy at the same time as he releases us, and I step back a little bit to put some space between us.
He picks up the soap and starts to lather his hands together before bringing them down on my body.
“What are you doing?” I ask, surprised that he still wants to touch me after he got off.
“Cleaning you up, Goose. Not like we can go on a date covered in cum.”
His hands run all over me, getting more soap as he went, cleaning up my abs and cock.
I can't help but return the favour, picking up my body wash and lathering him up as well, washing his abs down, gently washing the cum from his cock.
Relishing in the slight twitch of his cock, as if he could go again just because I've touched him.
“We don't have time to go again,” I state. “We have to go on our date.”
“Yeah, we do.” He smiles at me as we rinse off all the soap and step out of the shower.
I hand him a towel before grabbing one for myself.
I hastily dry, then step out into the bedroom.
All of his clothes are down in his room, so Tate heads off down the hall, just in a towel, and fuck, if it doesn't hurt me to see him go at the same time as I need it.
Needing the space, needing just a moment to breathe and get myself back to normal.
I've been trying to spread out how often we hook up for lack of a better word. Because I don't want him to have had enough that he doesn't want anymore. But I also don't want to get used to it. I know that the moment that I start sinking into having him this way. That I won't be able to recover.
Up until now, it's been me giving him hand jobs and blow jobs and getting myself off.
To jump from that to having his cock brush against mine, to having him come all over my cock at the same time as I came over his.
Fuck. I don't think I can even put into words how amazing I feel right now.
Stepping into my closet, I pull out a nice button up t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and a pair of boots, before spraying myself with my cologne, and quickly stepping back into the bathroom to style my hair.
I'm putting the finishing touches on my hair as Tate walks back into the room in an outfit almost identical to mine.
Different coloured pants, different coloured shirts.
But same style. I want to laugh at the ironic, at the irony.
Of it, but at the same time, We've both been given the brief on how we have to dress tonight.
So, I wonder how much of it was really his choice and style, or how much of it was just, that's the fanciest thing he owns.
It's not quite a suit, but it's almost there.
“You ready to go, Vince?” he says, leaning against the door frame, ogling me.
If we hadn't just got off, I'd say that he was interested in going again. But seriously, how could he want to? He just got off, and that's what this is to him, isn't it? And an excuse to get an orgasm. So why the hell is he, not even twenty minutes later, eyeing me up like he wants to eat me.
I look at him through the mirror, the mirror where I have been staring at myself for the last five minutes, trying to get the courage to tell him what is going on inside my head.
All this fooling around with Tate was meant to get him out of my system.
To take advantage of the time I have him for, but all it’s done is make it worse.
How am I meant to go back to just being his friend and a coach on his team? How the fuck am I meant to just carry on like I haven’t had his cock in my hand, and his cum in my mouth? I can’t act like he hasn’t crawled his way under my skin and set up a home there.
Fuck.
I need to tell him know how I am feeling. But that is stupid. This whole thing started because I told him—told the world—how I was feeling, and we are still recovering from that blunder.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, turning to look at him.
He gives me a smile that makes my insides melt and turn to fire at the same time. I’d thought I’d known him before, but since he practically moved himself in, I have seen a new side of him. Gotten to know him on a deeper level and learn what each expression means.
I follow him down to the car, nervous about what this date will bring, and knowing that I need to end the arrangement between us sooner rather than later.