by L. A. Witt
Stefan grinned. “Can’t say I have. You want to try?”
Frank grumbled. “All right.” He’d stopped believing in shower sex after an accident that had been hilarious, if painful. Hilarious for his partner—Andrew—and only in hindsight for himself. There was a secret about shower sex without losing balance or footing that nobody had bothered to teach Frank.
“Upstairs,” he repeated, and headed up, realising too late that the largest shower in the house, the one most suitable for what Stefan had in mind, was the en suite from the master bedroom.
He dropped the bag next to the nightstand, resisted the temptation to straighten the duvet as he looked at his bed with a stranger’s eyes. Black metal frame, sturdy, one pillow, one large duvet, the bed linens a dark blue. A food supplement catalogue was folded over on the nightstand, assorted papers strewn along one side of the bed, forming an untidy pile of bills and statements and voter registrations and whatever else found its way into his post box. Not exactly a den of debauchery and seduction, though thank God, no toys were out.
“Now what about that shower?”
“Yeah. Drop your stuff . . . err, here.” Frank pushed on into the bathroom, resisted the urge to cap the toothpaste. It had driven Andrew insane, and maybe he never capped the toothpaste now because part of him was hoping Andrew would come back and bitch him out over it.
Shit, that hurt.
Footsteps behind him. Right. Stefan was here. And somehow, his presence suddenly felt . . . strange. Like Frank had invited him onto holy ground and was having second thoughts a moment too late.
But then Stefan’s hands slid over Frank’s hips. He kissed the side of Frank’s neck. “You all right?”
Frank nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.” He freed himself from Stefan’s grasp under the guise of needing to turn on the shower. Behind him, clothes rustled, and Frank bit his lip. He’d seen flashes of Stefan’s skin, but all of him at once? Naked? He wasn’t sure he could handle that.
But Stefan wasn’t giving him a choice now. He stood between Frank and the bathroom door, and when Frank turned around from starting the shower, Stefan was pushing those camouflage pants down over his hips.
Oh. My God.
A few faint bruises and welts marked his skin, keeping tally of all his tactical moves and the occasional dive for cover—that was where the scrape on his knee must’ve come from, Frank decided—and adding to his badass persona. On his left arm, a US Army tattoo. On the right, a colourful abstract design with some lettering that might have been Greek or something.
Stefan definitely hadn’t let his military physique go soft. For that matter, there wasn’t anything soft about him right now, and that hard cock was even more enticing now that Frank knew what Stefan had in mind.
At Frank’s direction, Stefan draped his clothes over the edge of a hamper, and then he looked Frank up and down. “Do I have to unwrap my spoils?”
Frank glanced down, realising he hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing yet. Heat rushed into his cheeks. He gestured at the shower. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll join you in a second.”
Stefan grinned, then winked and slid past Frank, no doubt deliberately brushing against him. Frank swallowed hard. He glanced after Stefan, catching a glimpse of that gorgeous arse before Stefan stepped into the shower.
He shook himself and concentrated on getting out of his clothes, a task that wasn’t usually quite this difficult. As he dropped his tee into the hamper, he couldn’t help one last glance at the uncapped toothpaste on the counter. His stomach tightened. He didn’t feel as guilty about this as he thought he should have, and he felt guilt about that. Like he was moving on before he was ready to let himself move on.
“You need this,” Geoff had told him a while back when the matter of dating had come up again. “He’d want you to be happy instead of staying home alone with his ghost.”
“Exactly,” Mike had added. “Go for it, man.”
He’d chickened out then, though. Not nearly ready, despite the encouragement.
Frank glanced at the glass panel, and the broad-shouldered silhouette behind it. The guys were right. Andrew had emphatically told him not to stay alone forever. So, in spite of his own reservations and those of his two best friends, Frank tossed a towel onto the counter to cover up that uncapped toothpaste and stepped into the shower with Stefan.
His mood shifted immediately when Stefan turned and faced him. Fuck. The kid looked good naked, and he looked even better with water dripping from his military-style haircut and running over those toned pecs and abs. The grunge of the day was gone, and the only dirt left was right there in Stefan’s hungry eyes and wicked grin.
Stefan slowly licked his lips. “You know, I had a thought while I was in here by myself.”
“Did you?”
“Mm-hmm.” Stefan pressed himself against the wall so Frank could move past him and get under the water. As Frank let the water rinse away some of the dirt and sweat, Stefan faced him, arms folded across his chest, dark hair plastered to his sculpted forearms. “Wouldn’t want you falling and busting your ass in here, would we?”
“No, I suppose we wouldn’t.”
His grin broadened to Cheshire cat proportions. “Can’t fall if you’re already on your knees, can you?”
Oh. Fuck.
“No.” Frank gulped. “I can’t.”
Stefan pointed at their feet. His eyebrows flicked upwards. One arched slightly higher than the other in true do I have to repeat myself? form.
Frank’s knees were already bordering on unreliable, so he let them bend and eased himself down. The hard surface hurt, but that didn’t matter too much. Not when that cock was inches from his face.
He looked up at Stefan. As they made eye contact, Frank shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that Stefan—the man who was so inconceivably hot in any attire he did or didn’t wear, or engaging in any activity at all—was even hotter from this vantage point.
Stefan ran his long fingers through Frank’s wet hair. “I’m going to fuck you tonight.” He pointed past the shower door towards the bedroom. “In there. But first, I want to know what your mouth can do.”
Frank started to lean forwards, but Stefan gripped his hair and stopped him.
“Not yet.” Stefan took his cock in his hand and stroked it slowly, inches from Frank’s face. “You’re not going to make me come like this. Understood?”
Frank nodded as much as Stefan’s grasp would allow.
“You’re going to do as I say?”
“Anything.” As soon as he’d said it, Frank knew he meant it. Anything. He didn’t feel any shame or guilt about it, either. With Stefan, it seemed natural, like it was okay to tap into that part of him and let it run where it wanted. The thought that he was now at the receiving end of Stefan’s professional talents flitted over his brain, but failed to have any impact. He’d watched him long and often enough to know this was something Stefan enjoyed. That hard-on left no question open.
Stefan’s lips twitched in a brief smile. “Similarly, you won’t come.”
That would be harder to accomplish. With every passing breath, he got more turned on. As intoxicating as the build was, maybe they should pace . . . Whatever. Leave the pacing to Stefan. “Okay.”
Stefan ran his fingers through Frank’s hair, then traced a line along the side of his face. Frank was tempted to close his eyes, but then he’d have missed the expression on the man’s face, intent, focused, but with an underlying something that Frank couldn’t quite decipher. Didn’t want to. Just having sex would be amazing. He wanted it. Deserved it. Had gone too damned long without.
Stefan traced Frank’s lips with his thumb. Normally, Frank didn’t like that touch. It tickled, but maybe the water eased the friction and he thought it was hot as Stefan’s thumb insistently pushed forwards, his nail briefly grazing against Frank’s teeth. Frank opened up, then slid his tongue along the thumb, flicked across it, taking in the roughness of the pad and the smooth hardness of the nai
l. He pushed a bit further, glanced up at Stefan as if asking for permission, but Stefan didn’t give him any clue about whether that was what he wanted or not. Frank closed his eyes, welcoming the touch, the invasion that promised more, sucked on it, moving his head along, treating the finger like a very manageable cock.
Whatever Stefan wanted to put into him was all right by him. Toy. Fingers. Or, he hoped, that glorious dick, because it had been forever, and the thought made him shudder.
When he scraped his bottom teeth along Stefan’s thumb, Stefan hissed, pulled his hand back and gave him a gentle slap to the face. Frank’s eyes snapped open, the slap vibrating through his body down to his cock. Shit.
“I didn’t say you could bite.” But there was enough playfulness in his eyes to relax Frank. “I want to give you more.” He stroked himself again, close to Frank’s face. “But no teeth, right?”
Frank shook his head. “Not unless you want them.”
And he’d be damned if Stefan didn’t shiver. “That would be the right answer.” Stefan gently pulled Frank’s head towards him. “Now suck my dick until I tell you to stop.”
Frank didn’t hesitate. Stefan’s cock was a lot for his jaw to handle, but he took it anyway. When Stefan groaned softly, Frank added his hand. In his mind, he saw Stefan face-fucking Chris out on the paintball field, forcing himself into the other guy’s throat, so Frank did his best to imitate that speed and fervour.
“Oh, fuck. My God, Frank, that’s amazing.” But then he gently pressed against Frank’s forehead. “Easy, though. I’m not coming until I fuck you.”
The only thing that kept Frank from moaning “bloody hell” was the fact that he still had Stefan’s dick in his mouth, and since Stefan wanted him to slow down, he did. He couldn’t remember the last time a blowjob hadn’t been for the purpose of an orgasm. A blowjob where the orgasm was forbidden? That was new. And hot. And gave him a reason to taste and touch and explore Stefan’s thick cock. He was cut, something Frank hadn’t encountered before, but didn’t mind at all. He ran his tongue all the way down the shaft, then came up and teased the head with his lips and tongue.
Stefan shifted. Frank opened his eyes, realised Stefan had been widening his stance, probably to keep his balance. His hips were perfectly still; how the hell he did that, Frank had no idea. He’d never been able to hold still while he was in someone’s mouth, but Stefan didn’t move at all. Frank looked up at Stefan’s face. Stefan’s eyes were open, focused intently on Frank, and he ran his tongue across his lips. Water dripped from the spiked ends of his hair and ran down the sides of his face like sweat. Hell, maybe it was sweat. Frank was still under the shower, water rushing over his neck and shoulders, and he was probably sweating too from being so hot and so damned turned on.
Stefan braced an arm against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back. His lips moved, but the shower drowned out any words he might have said. Then he looked down again, eyelids heavy and lips apart like he wanted to speak but couldn’t.
Frank closed his eyes and concentrated on pleasing Stefan, stroking with both hands as he ran his tongue around the head of Stefan’s dick. His own cock was painfully hard now, and he desperately craved some kind of release. He imagined them on his bed, still wet from the shower and fucking as hard and violently as he’d watched Stefan fuck Mike, and he groaned as he took Stefan’s cock a little deeper into his mouth. At this rate, he wasn’t even sure he’d last beyond the moment when Stefan put on a condom.
Stefan’s abs tightened, and he shifted his stance again. When that hand pushed Frank back again, he really didn’t want to let go. Despite his aching knees and despite all the other things he wanted, making Stefan come in the shower had suddenly become the one thing he really wanted. But Stefan’s hand was insistent. Gentle, but determined.
Frank let him go and tried to catch his breath. Useless. His lungs felt like they’d shrunk, and he kept on panting.
“You’re . . . too good at this.” Stefan managed to sound husky and tender at the same time. “And you’re so ready for more.”
I am.
“Get up.”
Frank got to his feet, rolled his shoulders, and found himself pulled into another kiss that ramped up the tension, especially with Stefan’s cock brushing his. If they didn’t stop this, they’d definitely not get out of the shower before one or both of them came.
“Bedroom.” Stefan pushed him back enough to speak. “You first.”
Frank opened the door and stepped on the bath mat, not keen to interrupt, but even less keen on making a spectacle of himself by falling on his arse. Maybe it was the arousal, but he thought they were both steaming, and the mirror was too fogged to show any details.
He grabbed a large towel on the way out of the bathroom, wiped his face and hands and chest before he got to the bed. A swipe of the towel at least dried his arse and part of his legs, before he dropped it on the bedroom floor.
Stefan nodded at the bed, then crowded him towards it, kissing him again, his skin still wet. Frank couldn’t decide what was hotter—Stefan freshly showered or dirty and sweaty.
Without a word, he dug some condoms and lube out of the nightstand drawer, pausing to make sure they hadn’t expired. Between the two of them, they managed to get the condom onto Stefan. Putting on the lube almost turned into a frantic handjob before Stefan swore under his breath and, with a hand on Frank’s chest, pushed him towards the bed.
Frank climbed on the bed, Stefan following, staying on top while Frank lay back and opened his legs. Stefan pushed between them, and their cocks brushed again, an electric touch with all the damp skin between them. It was like being stalked, followed, hunted, though the deal was sealed. Something about the focus and intent in Stefan was dangerous and incredibly arousing.
Stefan still had some lube on his fingers, and as he pushed Frank’s legs farther apart, Frank pulled in a sharp breath. Anticipation already had him shaking. When Stefan’s cool, slick fingers pressed against him, he thought he was going to come unglued.
“You should know”—Stefan slid a fingertip into Frank—“all the other guys on the field, they were just for fun.” He pressed his finger in deeper. Withdrew it. Slid it in again. “Conquests.”
Frank tried to concentrate on what Stefan was saying, except what Stefan was doing with his finger—oh, God, fingers now—distracted the hell out of him.
“They were notches on my marker barrel.” Stefan stretched Frank, probed him, kept drawing his attention away from Stefan’s words. “You’re different.”
“How . . .” Frank shivered as Stefan’s fingers bent inside him. “How so?”
“You—” Stefan leaned down and kissed him, still finger-fucking him. When he broke the kiss, Stefan looked him right in the eye. “You were the only one I set my sights on before I went out on the field.”
Something in Stefan’s eyes told Frank to read between the lines, find some meaning he couldn’t quite comprehend yet. Hell, he could barely make sense of the superficial meaning, never mind anything beneath the surface.
“You got me.” He licked his lips. “What are you going to do with me?”
Stefan grinned. He kissed Frank again, then withdrew his fingers completely, and Frank thought he was going to lose it just knowing Stefan was about to fuck him.
And Stefan was about to fuck him, thank God. He sat up, and bit his lip as he guided himself to Frank. He pressed against him, but didn’t push in quite yet. His eyes flicked up. Met Frank’s. Locked on Frank’s.
Panic cooled Frank’s blood. Oh shit, he was hesitating. Backing off. Realising what he was doing and coming to his senses in the eleventh fucking hour.
But then Stefan sucked in a breath, and his hips moved, and Frank moaned as that thick cock pressed into him. Breached him. Gradually, one slow, careful stroke at a time, pushed deeper. Stefan was thick and not lacking in length either, but Frank’s body yielded to him, and as Stefan buried himself all the way inside Frank, they both shudd
ered.
Stefan leaned down to kiss him. Frank wrapped his arms around Stefan’s hot, still-wet body, and the two of them eased into a smooth, slow rhythm. This wasn’t what he’d expected—he’d anticipated violence and powerful thrusting and damaged furniture—but he loved it. Feeling Stefan’s skin against his, feeling the man moving slowly and perfectly inside him, it was amazing. Far beyond what he’d imagined.
Stefan broke the kiss and pushed himself up on his arms. He watched himself fuck Frank, and then met Frank’s eyes again. His expression was . . . different. Still hungry, still sexy as fuck, but Frank swore he was seeing a whole different side of Stefan. A layer that had been hidden since the beginning, beneath masks and smirks and that cocky attitude. His eyebrows were pulled together, his forehead creased, his lips slightly parted as he tried to catch his breath while he picked up speed. Frank touched his cheek, and Stefan closed his eyes and rubbed against Frank’s hand.
Then he opened his eyes again and shifted onto one hand. As Stefan reached between them, every muscle in Frank’s body contracted with anticipation, and he groaned as Stefan’s fingers closed around his cock. He wasn’t going to last. No way. His orgasm was moments, if not seconds away, especially as Stefan thrust into him harder.
Frank forced his eyes to focus, quickly scanned Stefan’s abs and chest and arm—fuck, he’s gorgeous—in search of any cuts or scrapes that might be in the line of fire, but saw none, and closed his eyes again.
“Oh God. I’m gonna . . .” Frank paused, searching for some goddamned breath. “Please tell me I can come.”
Stefan gave a soft laugh. “I never said you couldn’t while I’m fucking you.”
That was all Frank needed. His back arched, his body tensed, and as he came, Stefan made a soft, helpless sound, and then groaned and fucked Frank hard, abandoning slow and easy for desperate and demanding, if only for a few quick, uneven strokes.
“Holy shit.” Stefan dropped onto his forearm. “Fuck, man . . .”
Frank laughed, really laughed, because the situation was just so precious—he should have been worried about scrapes or cuts, should worry about his cum, should maybe freak out, but he couldn’t get over how amazing this had been. How this hot guy had rolled right through his defences, and they were both . . . he couldn’t even put it into words. This was good. He’d wanted Stefan so bad, wanted him again soon, even though he hadn’t even yet managed to pull his dick out, let alone build up enough arousal to put it back in, and here they were, both not strangers to sex, and it was all so heartfelt and raw and good.
