Chapter 24 #2
Water sprayed us as I backed out, and I pulled back to lick the droplets off his cheek.
He whimpered and thrusted, his cock stabbing me in the midsection with his impatient movements. While the water heated, I lowered him onto the concrete counter and tugged his shirts over his head.
“You need a shower from earlier,” I told him, dropping down to tug off his shoes.
His eyes were heavy-lidded, and the way his bare chest rose and fell rapidly told me his breathing was uneven. He grabbed the waistband of his pants and tugged them down, rocking a little to get them past his hips. I swiped them away but was momentarily distracted by the swelling in his knee.
“Baby…” My voice cracked as my fingers hovered over the area, wanting to touch him but not wanting him to be in pain. Shifting my gaze, I glanced at the other, noting it, too, was swollen but not quite as noticeably.
“It doesn’t matter right now, Hiro. Don’t look at my illness. See me instead.”
I groaned, hands hitting the counter on either side of him so I could crowd his space. “You aren’t an illness, Pip,” I swore, hoping he saw the absolute obsession in my stare. “You’re my cure.”
He arched as though I’d penetrated him and then yanked my sweats down so I could kick them away and pull him back into my arms.
Like the koala he always was, he clung, lips moving across my shoulder and into the side of my neck where he tugged the skin into a gentle suck.
My dick jerked impatiently, molten heat coursing through me as I closed us in the steamy shower. The humid air clung to my lungs the way need clung to everything else. The shadows in here made me feel at home, and I turned, plastering him against the glass so I could claim his lips again.
Our bodies were slick with water and probably sweat, and my hands skirted down his waist and around to his ass.
If I weren’t so enamored with how he felt in my hands, I’d wish I were on the other side of the glass to see the picture he made, naked and dripping with his cock sticking straight off his willowy frame.
Ripping my lips free, I kissed down his chest, tugging his pink nipple between my teeth and sucking with wild abandon. He cried out and arched into me, fingers tangling in my hair to keep me in place. When his thighs were shaking, I moved to the other and sucked until there was a bruise.
Satisfied, I moved back enough to put him on his trembling legs and sink to my knees.
“Christ,” he swore, staring down at me.
“Watch your mouth,” I told him and then used mine to swallow him whole. His entire body bucked into me like he was volunteering to be a sacrifice to whatever ritual I wanted to conduct.
Using one hand, I held him against the glass and swallowed around his length until I felt it in my throat. He whimpered and squirmed, his nails digging into my shoulders.
Oh shit. My shoulder. Too late I remembered it wasn’t supposed to get wet, but I’d rather lose the limb than pull back now, so I swallowed again before dragging back slowly and latching on to his swollen head to do my worst.
And by worst, I mean my absolute fucking best.
He bent over my body, breath shuddering, and I cupped his sack and massaged it, learning every inch.
“I can’t,” he whimpered, legs melting toward the floor. After flicking my tongue over his slit, I pulled back and gently lowered him to sit on the shower floor.
Water streamed from the showerhead but didn’t quite reach him, so I hit another button, and gentle rain fell from overhead, instantly saturating his wild blond hair and dragging the strands against his forehead.
He shivered, and I pushed the temperature up just a little before looking back down at him, dripping wet, blissed out, and desperate for more.
Mine.
I turned toward the spray, and he made a helpless noise, fingers wrapping around my ankle to keep me in place.
No stronger than a kitten but powerful enough to bring me to my knees.
Swiping the wet strands away from my face, I glanced down. He was on his hands and knees like he would crawl after me if he had to.
As if I’d ever let him crawl.
“Watch your knees, kitten,” I said, squatting to push him back on his ass.
“But, Hiro,” he argued, trying to stand.
I made a sound, and he froze, wide eyes pleading.
“I’m just getting the soap.”
His lower lip stuck out in a pout, and my heart somersaulted. Chuckling, I pushed up to grab the simple bar of soap. Seeing it in my hand now made me worry it probably wasn’t good enough for his delicate skin.
“I’m getting new soap,” I announced, sliding it over my chest and working it into a lather.
Hell, I was getting a new apartment. One that he belonged in. Not just a place to eat and sleep but a place where we belonged.
He made a sound, and I turned, white suds dripping down my body. His nostrils flared as his stare followed my hands scrubbing at my skin.
Another knot of heat formed inside me, and I slowed my hands, letting them glide to my dick. Pip’s teeth sank into his lower lip as he stared at the way I soaped myself, working my fist along my shaft until it was covered in suds and dripping onto the floor.
“More,” he whispered. “Lower.”
I obliged, spreading my legs and moving down to my sack and massaging the tight balls until they rolled around in my palms.
Pip slid closer, eyes never once leaving my movements, his own dick red and leaking between his legs.
“Please, Hiro.”
“Please, what?”
His tongue swept over his lips, making my groin tighten all the more. “Let me eat you.”
I dropped the bar of soap, and it slid into the corner while I roughly rinsed the suds away, my ass muscles clenching from the heat of his gaze.
Once clean, I turned back, and he shot to his knees but hissed in disapproval. I took a step back, and he froze. I pointed to the floor, and he dropped down, water splashing around his sweet ass.
Frustration welled in his eyes, hands curled into fists in his lap. When I stepped forward, his breath caught. Jesus, I could come from that look alone—as if he had to wait another minute, it would absolutely destroy him.
Straddling his stretched-out legs, I lowered to my knees until my hot, swollen cock was inches from his face.
“Open your mouth,” I said, voice no longer my own.
His jaw dropped instantly, and his hands grabbed my thighs.
“There you go,” I praised. “Good boy.”
Water rained over us, gliding over his cheeks as he stared up, openly begging for permission. Grabbing the base of my cock, I guided it to his open mouth, and he pushed forward until he started to gag.
I cursed, but he shoved deeper, his throat spasming around my length. I meant to tell him to go easy, but the second my hand touched his shoulder, I was using him for leverage so I could pump into his mouth.
He moaned and clutched my thighs, sucking like he loved it and wanted more.
I put my hand on his hair, pausing all movements. He didn’t pull back. He continued to suck, but I could feel his attention. “If it’s too much, tap my thigh twice,” I told him.
He made a small sound.
“Show me you heard.”
He tapped my thigh twice.
Before I could even praise him, he started moving, gliding along my shaft, all lips and tongue and sometimes teeth. A combination that scrambled my brain and left me breathless.
He worked until I trembled, then pushed deep until I was sure his throat would be the shape of my dick. The tight squeeze and the feel of his labored breaths against my pubes had me pulling back because I was two seconds from—