Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Keannen
AFTER ALL THESE years, I finally have Tim on his knees for me.
We never got this far in high school. I was ready to try just about anything, but Tim wasn’t. He always held back. He always stopped us at making out and dry humping. It was infuriating, but I was willing to wait. I thought I’d crack him open over time. I thought he’d be worth it.
I didn’t think it would take eight fucking years.
Now here he is, kneeling on the floor of the shower, water pouring over him as he gazes up at me and holds his pathetic dick in his hand. The worshipful look in his eyes is worth poems and paintings and songs, but I hold my ground and give him nothing. He’s not getting off that easy after all this bullshit .
I run my finger around the band of my pants, grazing the tip of my cock where it pokes free. Tim’s eyes follow every move, his mouth dropping open with naked hunger. Jesus, he really does want me that badly. He wants something, at least. Maybe twenty-five years have left him so pent up he’s even willing to accept the guy he rejected.
I drag my finger upward, and never has one finger left such a wanton trail of destruction in its wake. Tim all but pants, even though I do little more than trace up to my belly button, bringing my shirt up with me. That sliver of waist and the hair trickling down toward my cock actually makes Tim swallow as he devours it with his eyes.
I take a steadying breath. The devotion in his gaze goes straight to my cock, igniting unwelcome heat, but, well, if we’re doing this, we might as well do it. Why go to all this trouble if I’m not going to get off?
I hike the shirt up higher, using both hands, but stopping just when I might pull it off over my head. Tim groans over the drumming of the water hitting the shower basin.
I cluck my tongue. “Greedy.”
“Yeah,” he says without a beat of hesitation.
“You want me to keep going?”
“Yes,” he says. “Yes.”
“Hmm.”
I lower the shirt. Tim winces as though this physically pains him. Then I shrug and pull off my shirt at last, tossing it casually on the floor.
Tim’s eyes drink me in. They all but shine , like I’m the sun and he’s burning his retinas looking directly at me. I’ve put a lot of guys on their knees, but none of them have looked at me quite like this. It’s dangerously addicting.
Tim flinches when I slam a palm against the glass of the shower door. Standing above him like this, I’m in the perfect position to feed him my cock. Or I would be, if the glass didn’t stand between us. A beat of insanity rushes through me, and my very worst instincts rear up to whisper that I should throw open the door and shove my cock down Tim’s throat. There’s no way he’d stop me, not when he’s panting up at me like this.
I barely rein myself in. Tim isn’t getting what he wants that easily. I can sleep with whoever I want, and in the past eight years, I have. I don’t need him, and I certainly don’t need to reward him just because this adult version of him is even more pathetic than the idiot I met in high school.
I reach into my pants, palming over myself while Tim watches. I don’t need to fuck him to tease him. I can ruin him without ever touching him.
“You want my cock, straight boy?” I say, letting my voice dip lower.
“Not straight,” Tim says.
“Oh? You’ve never had a cock in your mouth though, have you?”
Tim shakes his head .
“Then how do I know you’re not lying?”
He drags his eyes up from my hand moving inside my pants, his gaze sun-bright. “I’m not lying.”
I know. I know he’s not. He’s always been so God damn earnest. That’s part of the problem with this guy. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to simply accept his confession.
“Then open your mouth,” I say. “Open it like you’re going to let me fuck your straight boy throat until it’s raw.”
He opens his mouth wide. I stroke myself, letting my hand push my loose pants and boxer briefs aside. Tim keeps his mouth open, but his eyes shoot back down to my dick. His breath fogs the glass before him, despite the heat of the shower itself. He starts stroking himself in time with my movements, rocking himself toward his fist.
“That’s a good boy,” I say in a low rasp. “Kneeling there waiting for me. What a good boy you can be.”
He doesn’t respond, but his chest puffs, that broad, lightly furred chest he’s gained over the years. I can imagine how he’d squeal and squirm if I got my hands on those pecs and tweaked his perky pink nipples. I’m not even touching him and his whole body thrums with sensitivity. I could seal my lips over one of those nipples and tug with my teeth until he whined and cried. I could do so much if I only got my hands on him, but I remain on the other side of the glass, stroking myself as though I’m not buzzing with want.
His free hand thuds against the glass. The pane rattles in its track. Tim’s big paw leaves a handprint on the fogged up glass. That hand would fit real good around my cock, but I don’t go for the door of the shower. I remain standing before him, stroking myself, cock pointed at his face.
“Touch yourself,” I say.
Confusion tightens his expression. “I am touching myself.”
“You’ve got more than a cock, Timothy. Don’t tell me you’ve never touched any other part of yourself.”
“I…”
Christ, maybe he hasn’t. How has this man survived this way for twenty-five years? A dark suspicion pings in the back of my mind, a suspicion that a lot more happened eight years ago than I ever knew about. What other explanation exists for how he’s gone all this time doing nothing, apparently, but jerking himself off alone?
“Touch yourself,” I say, harder, louder, throwing command behind my voice.
Tim responds so quickly it’s like I slapped him through the glass. His free hand comes off the shower pane, and he reaches uncertainly for his balls. When I don’t snap at him again, he tugs at them, groaning as he does.
“Lower,” I say. “Reach behind yourself. Touch that pretty little virgin hole of yours.”
“I don’t know how…”
“Are you fucking stupid?” I say with more force than necessary. Tim is clearly responding to commands, so I lay it on thick. “It’s a hole. Touch it.”
Tim reaches behind himself, his cock grasped in his other hand. He rises up on his knees, arm moving as he presumably rubs a finger over his hole.
“Oh,” he says.
I can’t help smirking. “There you go, straight boy. Rub that finger around your rim. Feel all those tight muscles. Push at it. You like that, don’t you? The pressure gets you hot. It makes your dick throb when you feel something pressing into you.”
“Yeah,” he pants, all the confusion gone. “Yes, oh shit. Yeah.”
I stroke myself harder while Tim plays with himself. He leans his forehead against the glass, his whole body wilting forward. The hand behind him works harder. Shit. Is he actually getting a finger inside himself that easily? This guy went from nothing to penetrating himself simply because I lowered my voice and asked. The knowledge has me throbbing, ready to explode over my hand, but first I’m going to ensure Tim ruins himself in that shower.
“Look up at me,” I command.
His head snaps up immediately. His eyes shine with a fucked out glaze. His hand keeps working behind him while his other hand fists his cock. Tim’s mouth hangs open, those freckles splotched across his cheeks.
I can’t take it. He’s so pathetic, so eager. I get closer to the glass, stroking myself harder and faster. Without a word, Tim sits up on his knees a little, tilting his head back and opening his mouth like I’m about to come all over his pretty face.
The image slams into me. Suddenly, the glass might as well be air. My eyes snap shut. My balls draw up tight and tense. I bite out a curse between gritted teeth, but it’s too late. I’m bursting over my hand and spraying onto the glass, thick ropes of cum that streak the pane.
Even as the release hits, I mentally curse myself for going first. I’m supposed to be the one in control, the one calling the shots. He’s supposed to be the needy one. But Tim doesn’t seem to notice. Even with my eyes closed, I know he’s coming because of the long, pathetic moan that echoes through the bathroom and the sad whimpers that follow it.
I lean my forehead against the cool glass and open my eyes. Tim sits splayed out in the shower, the water pounding into his face as he rests back on his hands and pants. Our cum soils the glass, the evidence of this bizarre night dripping toward the floor.
“Fuck,” I grumble at myself.
Is that for the glass? Is it because I need to go get a towel and wipe my spunk off the shower? Or is it because I allowed this to happen at all?
I try not to think about it, try to seem cool and detached as I clean the glass, dump the towel on the floor, and saunter out of the bathroom without waiting for Tim. I grab clean boxers to sleep in, leaving the soiled stuff on the floor. Then I get into bed without a word, lying on my side with my back to the other bed, as well as the rest of the room.
However Tim feels about what just happened, he apparently finishes his shower and even brushes his teeth before worrying about it. I listen to him padding around the now dark room, but he doesn’t try to talk to me, thankfully. He simply gets into his bed, and the whole room goes very still.
I lie there straining my ears, but in minutes soft, deep breaths reach me. He’s sleeping. Just like that, he’s sleeping. Apparently eight years of bitterness really doesn’t matter to this earnest idiot. Apparently he really is prepared to let it go, like he said. He just let me put him on his knees and order him to touch himself, and now he’s sleeping like a damn baby.
I, however, am not.
The encounter replays through my head. I wouldn’t call myself a dom, but ordering Tim around certainly came with its own peculiar thrill. Is this the revenge I had in mind when I knew we’d be stuck together on this tour? It doesn’t feel like it, but it also doesn’t feel like redemption. Tim can’t earn forgiveness entirely on his knees … though I may be willing to let him try.
No. Whatever this is, it’s a whole fucked up new dimension added onto an already fucked up relationship. It’s the exact sort of thing we don’t need if we’re going to function during this tour.
But damn, does it sound like fun.
I tuck myself into my blankets and manage to fall asleep with a smile on my lips.