Chapter 12
James
The only thing I needed more than that run was to be buried balls deep in Marc’s perfectly bouncy ass…
or vice versa. I wasn’t choosy. Fuck, when he’d thrown back my tease about fucking me, I’d nearly come in my damn shorts, which in hindsight were a terrible idea, because they hid absolutely nothing.
Thank God he’d been too absorbed in our standoff to look down and clock the steel pike tenting the thin material.
Truthfully, he should be damn glad that dog barked when it did, otherwise I’d likely have ended up mauling him within an inch of his life and probably bending him over the railing of one of the many little bridges.
I scrubbed at my sweat-soaked hair with my still mostly damp shirt.
It always amazed me how fast it grew. It had been—what?
—a little over a month since my last buzz and it was already long enough to run my fingers through.
I didn’t bother putting the shirt back on once I was satisfied no more sweat or water would drip into my eyes.
It didn’t hurt that I’d caught Marc sneaking glances, which I was almost positive he didn’t think I noticed.
Which, if I was being honest, was confusing as hell.
I wouldn’t call the ride back to the shop and the little apartment above it tense, but I wouldn’t exactly call it light either.
Electrically charged was more like. Then again, that might have been completely one-sided.
Fuck. Why couldn’t I figure out if he was flirting or not?
This wasn't normally that difficult for me to determine. Of course, most of the time the people flirting with me were about as subtle as the sledgehammer he’d been slinging around that first day. What was I missing?
When we got to the top of the stairs, I cut off Marc before he could offer for me to clean up first, because I knew he would. “You go ahead and shower. I want to cool off some more first,” I said as casually as I could.
In reality, I needed to rub one out before I died of blue balls, and these walls were paper-fucking-thin, and the shower wouldn’t obscure nearly as much as I needed it to.
He gave me a funny look, probably because the AC had been blasting cold enough in the car to make my nipples hard.
A point he clearly hadn’t missed, given the flick of his gaze to said nipples.
God, I needed him to stop looking at me like that and get in the goddamn shower already.
“Yeah, sure, okay. I figured we could hit up the French Quarter, then see where the day takes us.” The uncertainty in his eyes killed me and I wished to hell and back that I could muster up more believable enthusiasm, because that sounded freaking amazing—and a little like a date—but most of my blood was occupying the wrong head at the moment.
“Sounds like a plan. Hop to.” I smacked him on the ass—because I clearly had a death wish—and spun around, pretending that I hadn’t heard his surprised yip or that it hadn’t been hotter than hell.
I slowly made my way toward the couch and my duffel bag, viscerally aware of his confused gaze on my back.
Yeah, I knew I was acting weird, but I needed him to go already.
When the bedroom door finally closed, I didn’t even bother to make sure he was behind it. I dove for my bag like a man possessed, grabbed the lube from a side pocket and raced back down the stairs to the shop, because, again, the walls were super fucking thin and I didn’t know how long I had.
There was nothing remotely classy about the way I shoved my running shorts down, collapsed onto one of the folding chairs, and squirted lube into my hand.
I let out a guttural groan at the instant relief of wrapping my hand around my achingly hard cock.
Fuck, that felt good. I added a little more lube and tilted my head back as I spread my legs wider and settled deeper into the chair, which groaned in protest. I doubt I’d even notice if it gave out from under me at this point.
I alternated between a firm grip and lighter, teasing strokes.
Despite the urgency at the back of my mind, I couldn’t bring myself to go any faster.
I was too far gone in the fantasy of the run at the nature preserve going differently.
One where Marc had leaned forward to kiss me, had teased my lips apart as he walked me back to the nearest tree and pressed me against it.
I moaned, my hips lifting as I twisted my hand around the swollen head of my cock and stroked back down while I tugged lightly at my balls with the other.
My breathing stuttered as I teased my taint, and my fantasy Marc nipped at my neck.
I tightened my grip on my cock, stroking faster while I ran my other hand up my torso to tweak my nipple.
Fuck, I bet he was a biter. The thought paired with the sharp pinch of pain had my back arching off the chair and the legs screeching along the floor.
I was so lost to the sensations, I almost missed the sharp intake of breath.
I slowly raised my head, but didn’t stop touching or stroking myself.
I wasn’t surprised to find Marc standing at the other end of the room.
Actually, I was beginning to think he had a bit of a voyeur streak, especially since he’d come several feet into the room.
I gave a slow, experimental stroke and watched his eyes darken with lust. And that’s exactly what it was.
Not wishful thinking, not seeing what I wanted to see, pure unadulterated lust—directed at me.
A small moan slipped free, and my eyelids threatened to flutter shut.
Fuck, I was so close. But I knew, I just knew, if I looked away, he’d bolt.
My hand seemed to speed up on its own, and I had to tip my head back in order to keep my eyes on Marc, who was still looking at me with that same level of intensity.
God, the way he looked at me. Sometimes I swore I could live off that look alone.
Slowly, as if he were hoping I wouldn’t notice, he pressed the heel of his hand onto his crotch, and the unmistakable expression of pained arousal washed over his face.
My orgasm slammed through me with all the warning of an IED, and with about as much force.
Cum shot onto my sweaty chest and over my shoulder to hit the wall.
My toes curled in my running shoes. And my eyes squeezed shut as I bowed off the chair.
Fuuuck, I wanted more than anything to float in the afterglow of one of the strongest orgasms I’d had in years, like my vision literally fuzzed around the edges-threatened to black out-good.
But even with my eyes closed, I could feel Marc retreating, his panic filling the open space as he tried to hide from what he’d witnessed.
And, yeah, not on my watch. I officially had the confirmation I needed, and I was done playing coy.
I yanked my shorts up, barely sparing the brain cells to wipe my chest with my abused t-shirt, which I would a hundred percent be throwing out now, and made a beeline after him.
Luckily, he hadn’t gotten far, and I found him on the other side of the stairs rather than halfway up them.
Unfortunately, he was gripping his head and seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating, though it didn’t appear to be tempering his arousal.
“Something on your mind, Marc?” I asked, stepping into view. His head snapped up, betraying how lost in his world he’d been.
“No,” he said with a hair too much conviction. “I’m not remember–I mean I didn’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut and stopped talking. Remembering, huh? There was a tasty tidbit. So he still thought about it, too. And he was definitely thinking about it now.
“Are you sure about that?” I raised an eyebrow and waited for him to open his eyes before pointedly glancing down at his noticeably tented cargo shorts, then slowly dragged my gaze back to his.
He swallowed, and sounds that probably had ambitions of being words came out of his throat.
I took a step closer, partly to be nearer to him and partly to see what he would do.
Much like on the trail earlier, despite his nerves being on full display, he held his ground.
His hair was still damp from his undoubtedly hasty shower, and I caught whiffs of citrus.
He’d skipped his morning shave, and all I wanted to do was run my hand along his cheek to feel the stubble scratch my palm.
I wanted to touch him in the worst way, and given how wide his pupils had blown when I’d invaded his personal bubble, he was right there with me.
I braced one hand on the stairwell beside his head, careful not to fully cage him, then leaned tantalizingly close. I wasn’t sure which one of us I was torturing more, but the deep way he breathed me in and swayed toward me certainly didn’t read like a rejection. Time for the direct approach.
“Red, yellow, green,” I said, dropping my voice but keeping the words clear.
He finally blinked, his eyebrows scrunching adorably with confusion. “Huh?”
I fought not to smile, though my lack of success left room for improvement. “Green: good to go. Yellow: change it up. Red: hard stop.”
“Oh. Right.”
I ducked my head to hide my rebellious grin.
I needed him to dial back his adorableness by a thousand before he killed me.
Once I was fairly confident that I had my face back under control, I leaned a little closer.
God, it was like playing with the space between magnets, seeing how close you could get them before they inevitably came together.
“What’ll it be, soldier? Red, yellow, or green?” To ensure there was no room for doubt, I gave Marc’s dick a firm squeeze through his shorts.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasped. “Green, definitely green.” Music to my ears.
I deftly popped the button on his cargos, slid the zipper down, then slipped my hand past the elastic of his underwear to palm the warm, smooth skin of his dick. He moaned deep in the back of his throat, and his eyelids fluttered shut.