5. No Grabbing #3
He straightened too soon, but then he lifted his arms above his head and threaded his fingers together, like a diver preparing.
He wasn’t dancing for Connor, more like stretching, but his body was more beautiful than Connor had imagined, even more than his profile photo had promised.
His arms were so fluid that Connor yearned to take him dancing.
He’d shaved his armpits and Connor wanted to stand behind him and raise those elegant arms to twine around his head while he licked from his elbow to his shoulder and nuzzled him everywhere.
“Are you watching?” The smirk didn’t require an answer, which was good, because Connor’s lips had dried too much to speak.
Jonathan’s dropped his hands to the button on his pants, then the zipper.
Don’t stop. I will collapse. Please, don’t stop.
He bent forward slightly to ease the white fabric down his legs and for a moment Connor didn’t understand what he was wearing when he straightened.
Well, he wasn’t an idiot, online underwear ads filled his feed, but he didn’t understand why he was this lucky.
The resemblance to Connor’s everyday briefs ended at the color, white.
An elastic waist band circled Jonathan’s hips, and a white pouch concealed his straining cock.
No legs or side panels, but unlike every jock strap he owned, the pouch was lace.
Jonathan turned away to hang his carefully aligned pants on the back of the chair, and the lack of side panels continued to be a lack of back panels.
Only a triangle of white lace fabric covered the dip at the very top of Jonathan’s crack, but then a strap disappeared between his cheeks.
His butt was perfectly firm, perfectly shaped.
Connor didn’t have better words to describe it, but he knew that ass was the exact peach Connor wanted to cup in his hands.
It was a male thong, but it looked so much more comfortable, so much silkier, than Connor had ever imagined a thing like that could be.
He wanted to put his own cock in a pouch and feel those straps ride his hips and another one separate his ass cheeks.
He wanted to know what it would be like to have that secret under his regular clothes.
He was pulsing and ready, but he had no idea what to do. The only things he knew with absolute certainty were that he wanted to come on that ass or maybe the dip below Jonathan’s stomach more than he’d ever wanted to come on another man, and that Jonathan had ordered him to stay here.
So, he stayed.
Jonathan rewarded him by turning to fully face him and hooking both thumbs into the elastic below his hips.
Connor tried to breathe.
And then Jonathan lowered his thong. The lacy pouch snagged on his erection for a moment, and Connor held his breath until the material lost, letting Jonathan’s cock pop free.
Connor felt that surge in his own erection, but the clothing tangled around his feet immobilized him.
Jonathan was free to move. Free to stand, naked, in front of Connor.
As if in a spotlight, his cock was the only thing Connor could see.
He was uncut and fully erect, pulled level by gravity so that he bobbed and pointed at Connor.
A strip of neatly trimmed dark hair framed the base, but his thighs and stomach and abs were smooth.
There were slight hollows where his pelvis and his thighs met, the dents of a life of exercise, and as he moved, Connor watched the play of muscles under the other man’s skin.
Jonathan touched himself, and that was both wrong and right. He splayed his hand across the smoothness between his navel and the dark hair where Connor needed to be touching him, but he also needed to stay here against the door and be a good boy.
“What do you want, Connor?”
You.
“You opened your mouth, Connor, but you didn’t answer.” Connor’s name was a taunt, a way of teasing him and driving him nuts with the urge to kiss it out of his mouth while he smirked. Jonathan let his hand glide the length of his erection, a place Connor shouldn’t touch.
Not until Jonathan permitted.
He trembled with the effort of staying flat to the door. He knew Jonathan would reward him for this, he knew he would get what he wanted, he would get everything, but his body felt like it would break from the waiting.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.” This time he said it out loud. “Touch me. I want you to touch me.”
He needed to be touched, but it was more than that. His need went both ways, touching and being touched, and he wasn’t sure which he required first, just that something had to happen.
He couldn’t stand here doing nothing but staring.
He was too close to breaking.
Jonathan stepped into his space, until he could feel the other man’s breath brush his shoulder, but gave nothing more. Connor swore he could sense him with every inch of his skin, but that was an illusion.
Connor needed all of him, the bones of his shoulders and the dip of his waist and the smooth lines of his legs, Connor had to touch it all, yet he was frozen, waiting. Everything he wanted was right there, inches away, but he couldn’t have it.
He wanted it.
He couldn’t take it.
He needed. He needed.
“Enough.” That was his own voice, raspy and pained.
Surprised dark eyes darted to his. The soft pink lips parted.
Connor broke.