Trey #2
A flash of something crosses his face, but it's gone before I can process what it was.
After a moment, he replies. "Can I touch you?"
"Of course, scoot over," I say, swatting at his hip.
I lay on my back, one arm bent, with my head resting on my forearm. I watch as his gaze snags on my bicep and he licks his lips, heat blanketing his expression.
He lazily takes in my entire body, clad in only my black boxer briefs. His Adam's apple bobs when he sees that I'm hard for him. He shifts onto his knees and rests a shaking hand on my pec.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispers reverently.
I raise an eyebrow at him, and he stumbles. "I-I-I mean. Your skin against mine it's... it's beautiful."
A tease is on the tip of my tongue, but the raw emotion in his eye has me biting it off.
His second hand joins the first, and he tentatively drags his soft, warm palms over my pecs, my shoulders, my arms, to trace circles lightly on the backs of my fingers.
A shiver works up my spine. It's probably the most intimate thing I've done with a client.
I should put a stop to it. I should put a stop to the satisfaction - and butterflies - his touch elicits. But I don't.
He licks his lips and leans in for a kiss, but I stop him with a hand on his chest.
“No kissing. It’s one of my rules for my job. It gives clients the wrong idea.”
He looks disappointed for a moment, but brushes it away quickly before dragging his hands back up my arms, over my pecs, down my abs, until his palms my cock over the fabric.
"Can... can I..."
I wait patiently, giving him a tiny nod, even as my heart is climbing into my throat. I'm equally thrilled and nervous to hear his request.
"Can I do to you what you did to me?"
My lips tip up in a grin. Pride thrums through my chest at how eager he is to please.
It's a stark difference from the cocky boy he once was.
I need to stop holding that against him.
High school was ages ago. I know I'm not the same man, and neither is he.
In this moment, I decide to forgive and forget high school and take Gareth Brockman as the man in front of me, eager to rim me.
"Yes."
I lift my hips as he tugs my boxers down my legs and tosses them to the side. He takes my cock in his hand, and the warmth of his palm envelopes me.
I lay my head back against the pillow and breathe deeply, my entire awareness narrowing down to only where he's touching me. He strokes me languidly, like I did for him. Precum leaks onto my stomach.
I suppress a jolt as his warm, wet tongue finds my asshole. He's tentative at first; it's the faintest of touches, but it's there. Then, he gets bolder, licking from top to bottom, and back down again. It's deliciously naughty and not bad for his first time.
I'm not sure I could come like this, but my cock is aching and throbbing in his hand.
I'm vaguely aware that I should be watching the clock, but I'm not about to stop him if he wants to give as well as receive.
It's truly the complete experience. If he wants to have the confidence to pursue a homosexual relationship with another man, he can experiment on me.
A tendril of unease slips into my belly at the thought of Gareth doing this with another man, but I push it aside and refocus on the feel of him.
He tongue fucks me until he must get a cramp because he comes up and swallows my cock into his mouth.
I grunt in pleasure. My stomach clenches, and I'm closer to coming than I thought.
His hand drops to my balls and squeezes them, caressing my taint, and everywhere he can touch.
Earnest blue eyes look up at me, so I give him a bit of a show.
I want him to feel confident in his abilities.
I'm not lying - he feels incredible - but I play up how good he's making me feel.
"Mmmm, just like that. God, it's good." I drop my hand to the back of his head and hold him the way he held me. That innocent contact sets me off.
"C-coming," I gasp out, gritting my teeth together as my toes curl and my back bows off of the bed.
He takes me to the back of his throat and swallows every drop.
I blow out a breath as I come down from my high and hum in satisfaction like the cat that got the canary.
"How was it?" Gareth asks. I can't help but smile.
"Not bad," I tease.
He reaches for the pillow and smacks me across the chest before I can block it, laughing.
"Dick," he mutters unhappily.
I grip him by the back of the neck before he can retreat and bring his face inches from my own.
"It was incredible."
He goes to protest, but I notice the time on the nightstand. He sees what I'm looking at, and his shoulders deflate. We're nine minutes over the time limit.
I know he needs more aftercare, but I don't want to push my professional boundaries. I drop a kiss to his forehead and stand, retrieving my boxers from the floor and slipping them on.
Unease sits just below my breastbone. I want to stay. I want to blur lines. I want to feel his lips against mine.
And that's a problem.
"It's important you don't confuse this with something more..." I say, flinching. It came out much harsher than I intended, and I'm saying it for myself than for him.
I can't look him in the eye as I start to get dressed, but his silence bothers me.
I finally turn to look at him and see sad blue eyes staring back at me. He doesn't look away, though, and I can tell he has something he wants to say.
"If I were looking for someone, I'd look for someone just like you," he admits, and it feels like another arrow to my defenses. He's been thinking of me outside of our sessions. He's been thinking of me as someone other than an escort for hire.
I hesitate by the door, unsure of where this leaves us.
I know I have to leave, but something feels unfinished between us.
It's like we started a conversation that we don't have the time to finish.
It's the dreaded 'what are we' conversation that I simply don't have the answers to.
Right now we're client and escort. What we will be, I don't know.
Instead, I walk back to the bed, grip him by the back of the neck again, and drop a kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter shut as he absorbs the affection.
And before he can say another word, I turn on my heel and run out of the hotel room like a coward.