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- 01/12/2011
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Daydreams - 1. The Shower
We’d shared a room since our freshman year. For nearly four full years I’d watched him walk around half naked, sometimes wearing only a towel, sometimes wearing even less than that, which translated to nothing at all.
The other guys we had shared rooms with over the years had come and gone in similar states, but I can’t say that I really noticed them. Chris was different though. We’d grown up together. We’d been best friends since I could remember, but I’d started “noticing” him during our final year of high school. In a way, I’m glad I hadn’t “noticed” him before that. It would have complicated things between us. I’d always been fairly certain Chris was straight as an arrow anyway, but that didn’t stop me from noticing him, once I started “noticing” him.
So going off to college together was one of those mixed-feeling things. On one hand, I really wanted to be with him, to be around him. Not just because I had discovered that I REALLY wanted him, but because he was my best friend. I wasn’t really all that good at making friends. I had a few good ones, ones I would hang with and talk about nothing with, so it wasn’t like I was a complete social outcast or anything. But I knew being with Chris would make it easier for me to be around other people, people I didn’t know. Chris was one of those outgoing guys who fell easily into every conversation, fit in with every crowd and who everyone liked almost immediately. So all those things considered, I was glad we were going to the same college.
But on that other hand, I REALLY wanted him. Wanting your straight best friend wasn’t the greatest thing; it was more like the worst thing. Though no, the worst thing would be if he KNEW I wanted him—and the prospect of actually managing to keep that a permanent secret from him really wasn’t all that promising.
So, mixed feelings.
Not that he didn’t know I was gay. Chris wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t exactly in the closet. I’d never made any sweeping dramatic announcement to the world or anything like that. I’d just never tried to hide it. No one had really cared, no one that I had given a fuck about anyway. But there was a world of difference between knowing your best friend is gay and knowing your gay best friend wants to fuck you senseless. So I played it as cool as I could. I took a lot of cold showers, jacked off a lot (usually thinking of him), went out with some guys (nothing serious), and I watched Chris walk around half-naked whenever the opportunity arose.
I guess the fact that it arose quite frequently started dawning on me late in our junior year of college. Ok, it really didn’t dawn on ME, but it did dawn on the other roommate we had at the time. Steven was unashamedly tri-sexual—would try anything sexual, with anyone, anytime—and had caught on to the non-secret that I was gay pretty much immediately.
On one of those hornier-than-usual nights we had gotten into some tonsil hockey and were on our way to getting into something with a little more full-body contact when Chris had come in. He had looked at us and without any apparent second thought had stripped down to his skin, grabbed his bathrobe and walked out of the room to the showers. Steven immediately pointed out that Chris had put on a nice show for me.
I asked him why he thought it was a “show” for me, and he had replied, “Because, baby, if looks could kill, I’d be one hell of a hot-looking corpse right now. That view of his ass was meant to show you what you’re missing.”
I’d laughed at him at the time and pointed out that Chris was straight. I also pointed out that he had taken a seriously major leap to that conclusion. But after that I started wondering. First of all, Chris KNEW I was gay, and while I had never made a pass at him or had in any way given him any indication that I had EVER thought of him in “that way,” would you wander around your gay roommate with your ass hanging out? Chris knew he was good looking. He always had his pick of the chicks. Didn’t he think it might make me just a little bit hot? Though I guess that he might have just felt comfortable around me. After all, we’d been friends forever.
But still… And the more I paid attention, the more it did seem like he didn’t miss many opportunities to flash his flesh at me. Not that I was complaining, mind you.
But I guess there is always that point where things turn. My dad always used to use milk as an example. There would always be that one second when the milk was good enough to drink and then the VERY NEXT SECOND, it was sour. Of course, you never really could pinpoint that exact second—not unless you spent every moment tasting the milk. It was like that with Chris, too. There had been more moments than I could count where I had looked at him, admired him and let it go—because I knew I couldn’t have him. Then there had suddenly been that one moment where I started thinking maybe I could. Though I don’t remember actually thinking that; I just remember walking up the stairs to our dorm room and thinking that the next time he stripped off in front of me, I was going for it. “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”
Of course, when I got to our room, it was empty, which I knew it would be. I sighed and flung myself down on my bed and ran my hand over my crotch. I was horny as hell. I looked at the clock. Chris had a class until 3:15. It was 2:45 now. Steven wasn’t likely to show up until after dark—though I didn’t want Steven. I wanted Chris. Period. End of discussion.
Thinking of how much I wanted him wasn’t helping. Neither was stroking my cock through my shorts. I groaned, banged my fists on the bed and got up. I figured I needed a nice cold shower, though I knew I would end up taking a nice warm one and finishing things off. Then I’d turn up the cold water and clear my head.
So I stripped off, wrapped a towel around my waist and headed across the hall to the showers.
It was an old building. A lot of things had been renovated over the years, but for some reason the bathrooms seemed to have been left off the to-do list. At some point they had added stalls for the toilets and some partial wall things between the urinals, but the showers were like the ones we had in middle school—just a row of shower heads on one wall.
I had asked my dad, back then, why they had showers like that. Bathing was more or less a private thing, or so I had been raised to believe. God knows my mom would bitch loudly enough if anyone left the bathroom door open while they were taking a shower or a bath. My dad—who could come up with an answer or explanation for everything, most of which I only half believed—had said it was to de-individualize you, to make you know you were nothing more or less than the next guy, so that you would be more receptive to being part of the “team.” It seemed like a reasonable answer at the time. I really hadn’t thought much about it afterwards, and I guess I was never shy enough to be traumatized by having to be naked in front of a bunch of other guys. I just learned to appreciate the view.
Like the view I had when I opened the door and took a few steps into the room.
My pulse quickened as I saw him standing there, the water rushing over him like a waterfall. His back was to me, but I could picture the water trickling down the trail of dark blonde hair that led from his chest down to his balls, his skin glistening as the droplets clung to him. I almost groaned out loud and my hand instinctively reached for my cock, which was pointing to Chris like the needle of a compass pointed to the North Pole.
I stood there for a moment, stroking myself and debating over whether to lock the door or not. I really didn’t want to risk someone walking in on us, and it didn’t seem like he had heard me come in. Would he hear the click of the lock? I decided to chance it. After all, I’d be chancing much more than that in a few moments.
I turned the lock and held my breath. Having me walk into the showers while he was there wouldn’t be cause for remark. It had happened enough times before. But having me walk into the showers and lock the door… A person would have to be pretty stupid not to read anything into that.
But he didn’t seem to hear it, so I let my breath out slowly and approached him as quietly as I could. He didn’t seem to hear me as I moved toward him, the pounding of the warm water on the tile floor most likely silencing my footsteps. Even as I drew closer to him, close enough that I could feel drops of water splashing against my legs, he still didn’t seem to notice. So I tossed my towel aside.
Would I be ending a friendship or starting something new?
I stepped behind him into the shower. The water washed over me; the same water that washed over him. It was warm, sensual, and it stirred my cock nearly as much as the closeness of him. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t move—though I had to think he MUST have known someone was there. But I wasn’t going to stand there wondering about that, not with him so close to me I could feel the heat of him.
I laid my hands lightly on his shoulders, pulling him back slightly so that my body pressed lightly against his. I felt, rather than heard, the sharp intake of his breath as I pressed my lips to the back of his neck, just at the point where his shoulder and neck met.
“Mmm…” The sound came from me as the taste of the water mixed with a faint taste of soap and with the heady taste of his skin. I ran my tongue over his skin in small circles, licking the water, tasting his skin.
He answered me with a release of his breath that was half sigh, half moan as I sucked gently on his neck, my teeth brushing against his skin.
Encouraged by his response, I massaged his shoulders steadily, feeling the hard muscles beneath the incredibly soft skin. My desire for him started to consume me and I was aware of nothing but the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of him. Nothing existed in the world around me except Chris. He was everything.
I moved my lips slowly up his neck, my tongue licking his skin gently, savoring the subtle changes in his taste as I moved from his neck to his earlobe. He took another sharp breath as I nibbled lightly on his earlobe, my hot breath caressing his ear.
He turned a little, and I noticed his eyes were closed tightly, more tightly than necessary to shut out the water. I wondered for a fleeting moment just what was going on behind those eyes. Was he lost in his own fantasy? I looked down and saw him stroking his own erection.
I entwined my fingers in his wet hair, turning his head back to where it was. “No, don’t move,” I whispered in his ear, trying to keep any traces of “my voice” out of the sound.
Who was he thinking about while he stroked his cock? Did he know who was touching him?
I released his hair and resumed massaging his shoulders, working my hands slowly down over his arms, feeling the strength in his biceps. My breath quickened as I traced around the edge of his ear with my tongue and pressed more closely against him, feeling the length of his body against mine. My hands reached his waist, slipping around and up to caress his chest.
I teased one of his nipples with my fingertip as I moved my other hand slowly down his arm to rest lightly over his hand, the one that still stroked his cock. My fingers brushed lightly against his shaft as my hand followed his. I felt his body tense a little and he licked his lips—a nervous gesture he’d had as far back as I could remember.
“You need to relax,” I whispered, as my other hand abandoned his nipple to caress its way down to his hips, my fingers kneading into his flesh. I pressed closer to him and rubbed my cock slowly against his ass. He tensed instantly, almost as if he were getting ready to run away; but he didn’t run, he didn’t move. He just stood there, his breath quickening.
I laughed softly in his ear. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” I breathed, no longer trying to conceal “my voice” from his recognition.
I turned him to face me and noticed his eyes were still tightly closed. I pressed my lips gently against his, half expecting him to pull away, but he didn’t. Eyes still closed, he abandoned his self-pleasure and ran his hands over my shoulders.
I sighed at the touch of his hands. They were warm, so warm, warmer than the water that rained over us, and I felt the heat from them spread through my body. I pulled him closer, my kiss becoming less gentle, more insistent.
A soft moan vibrated his lips as he responded to my kiss, moving his tongue against mine with a slow, deliberate hunger that surprised me—and made my pulse race. Then he pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss.
I opened my eyes, ignoring the water that ran into them, and searched his face, wondering why he had pulled away when it had seemed he wanted that kiss as much as I did.
His eyes were still closed, little drops of water clinging to the ends of his long lashes, making them look even longer. He sighed and a little crease formed between his brows as he raised his hand and ran his fingers gently over my face and down my chest.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. His eyes looked slightly bemused as they blinked away the water, as if he had awakened suddenly from a dream and could not quite tell where the dream ended and reality began.
“Is this finally real?” He spoke the words in a whisper as he brought his hand back up and touched my lips with his fingertips, so lightly I could barely feel them, as if he were afraid that I might be a bubble that would pop and disappear.
I looked into his eyes as I reached out and ran my fingers along the curve of his cheek. How long had I wanted to do that, to just reach out and touch his cheek with my fingers, with my lips? I continued to massage his beautiful cheek gently, my fingers brushing his lips, sliding under his chin, caressing their way around to the back of his neck.
The question was still in his eyes and I smiled as I leaned closer to him. “Yes,” I whispered softly against his lips.
I felt his response, his lips seeking mine…but I denied them what they sought. Instead, I brought my lips to the base of his neck, licking the water from his skin. I could feel his pulse beneath my lips, feel it racing against my tongue. A soft moan broke through his lips, telling me I had found a sensitive spot, so I lingered there, sucking gently, my teeth brushing his skin. I noticed a small patch of red had formed and I teased it for a moment, tracing around the edges with my tongue.
I noticed that there was space between our bodies and remedied that unacceptable situation by pulling him hard against me. A short, hot breath escaped my lips as our cocks touched, and I wanted to push him against the shower wall and have him right then and there. But I wanted this to be more than just that, so instead, I rubbed my cheek against his and grabbed his earlobe with my teeth. My own pulse was racing, the blood pounding in my ears.
“I want you in your bed…” my voice was a harsh whisper, my breath driven hot from my lungs by the force of my arousal, “now!”
I led him from the shower, keeping his body very close to mine. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him, using it to dry his skin slightly and also to keep him imprisoned within my grasp. My eyes locked with his. I didn’t look away as I steered him backwards to the door. I paused at the door and pressed my body closer against his, pulling the towel so that it also wrapped around me, covering—somewhat—my own bare ass. With one hand clutching the towel, I opened the door just wide enough to look down the hall. It was empty, at least for the moment. Voices coming from the stairwell indicated it wouldn’t be empty for long. With a quick grin I steered him backwards through the door and across the hall to our room. I paused a moment, pressing him against the door and rubbing against him. I could feel him tense just a little as the door to the stairway clicked open. In seconds we would have an audience.
“Alex…”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I covered his mouth with mine and opened the door to our room, pushing him quickly inside. I kicked the door closed behind me and continued on across the room, deepening the kiss with every step.
I laughed slightly as we collided with his bed and I felt him lose his balance. A slight push sent him sprawling backwards. I pulled the towel from him and looked down at him. He lay there as he had landed, his lean, tanned body sprawled across the bed, his legs spread apart with one of them half off the side. On his face was a smile that managed both a look of surprise and invitation at the same time.
I pulled the towel from him and dried myself off…slowly, enjoying the slight blush that crept across his cheeks as he watched me. Satisfied that I was dry enough, and that he’d had enough time to anticipate my next move, I dropped the towel and slipped onto the bed next to him. Propping myself up on one elbow, I traced the lines of his lips with one finger then leaned over and kissed him, a soft, gentle, unhurried kiss.
I felt him move a little and I broke the kiss. As much as I wanted him, I wanted him to want it, too. I didn’t want anything he didn’t want to give. As I raised my head I looked into his eyes. I saw a tentative expression in them, almost as if he were still unsure if this were real. Or was he unsure if this was what he wanted? I was afraid to ask, afraid he might say no, it wasn’t. Then he took my hand in his and closed his eyes as he rubbed his thumb gently over my palm.
“It’s weird, but if someone really wants to turn me on, all they have to do is rub their finger over the palm of my hand.”
It had been one of those conversations you have when the beer has made your body lazy and your tongue loose. At the time he’d groaned and made a big show of gagging and saying it was “too much information, dude!”
But the signal was clear and it chased away any questions or doubts I had.
A shudder of pleasure rippled through me, each stroke of his thumb delivering fresh waves of heat. My breath quickened as my desire for him became nearly unbearable. With a deep groan, I pushed his arm down against the bed and moved my body over his, my knees straddling him. His lips twitched into a smile that cried out to be kissed, so I kissed him—hard, my tongue thrusting deep into his mouth.
His tongue rubbed hungrily against mine as his fingers clutched at my sides, pulling me closer to him.
“God, Chris!” I cried out as he arched his back and rubbed his body against mine.
He laughed a little and the smile that had twitched across his lips broadened into a slightly wicked grin that shot right through me. Then he closed his eyes and slid his hands down my back and over my ass. As he pushed up against me I could feel his hot breath against my skin.
I closed my own eyes, locking in the image of him lying beneath me, holding tight to the picture of his lips parted, short, hot gasps making them tremble.
I moved against him, rubbing my throbbing erection against his and he gasped, as if for air, and grabbed my hips and thrust up against me.
“Ahhh, God!” I moaned as the heat from him spread through me. “That feels incredible.”
“It feels so fucking good!” he gasped in response as he gripped my hips tightly and leaned his head back.
I pressed my face against his neck, my teeth brushing over his collarbone, as I began to grind myself hard against him. My breath became quick and hot, the friction between our cocks driving me nearly insane.
He moaned even louder, gasping my name as he ran his hands over my back, his fingers digging into my skin.
I groaned against his ear and rubbed even harder against him, my pace quickening to keep time with the blood rushing through my veins and pounding in my head. I could feel the pressure building within me. My head felt like it was about to explode, blood pounding in my ears, little flashes of light going off behind my eyes like fireworks, as I thrust harder and harder against him.
He kept saying my name over and over as he arched his back and rocked his hips in rhythm with mine. Then he clutched at my shoulders and turned his head, his breath hot against my ear as he groaned, “Fuck, Alex, I’m gonna cum!”
That was all I needed to hear to push me right over the edge. I growled against his shoulder and thrust harder still, but only for a moment before I felt the pressure release in me, felt the fluid of my own climax rushing from me. Almost at the same time I felt his body tighten and shudder and felt the spread of his warmth as it mixed with mine.
I lowered myself slowly down on him until our bodies touched completely. He ran his hands slowly up and down my back, his fingers gentle now, not clutching. I pressed my lips against his neck as I relaxed and my breathing started to return to normal.
“Chris,” I murmured against his skin. I raised my head and kissed him tenderly, softly, my tongue barely touching his lips.
It was a fantasy come to life, a dream come true, and it was more than just sex--much more. But somehow I couldn’t tell him what I had felt for so long.
So I looked into his eyes, hoping my eyes would tell him all the words my tongue had suddenly lost.
He smiled and brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek, and I read the answer in his eyes even before it touched his lips.
“I love you, too.”
I would like to thank Rob for ‘pointing out things,’ Andy for his suggestions and Juss for being such a punctuation tyrant and for reminding me about that nasty little rule about starting sentences with conjunctions…
Copyright © 2011 Luc; All Rights Reserved.
The other guys we had shared rooms with over the years had come and gone in similar states, but I can’t say that I really noticed them. Chris was different though. We’d grown up together. We’d been best friends since I could remember, but I’d started “noticing” him during our final year of high school. In a way, I’m glad I hadn’t “noticed” him before that. It would have complicated things between us. I’d always been fairly certain Chris was straight as an arrow anyway, but that didn’t stop me from noticing him, once I started “noticing” him.
So going off to college together was one of those mixed-feeling things. On one hand, I really wanted to be with him, to be around him. Not just because I had discovered that I REALLY wanted him, but because he was my best friend. I wasn’t really all that good at making friends. I had a few good ones, ones I would hang with and talk about nothing with, so it wasn’t like I was a complete social outcast or anything. But I knew being with Chris would make it easier for me to be around other people, people I didn’t know. Chris was one of those outgoing guys who fell easily into every conversation, fit in with every crowd and who everyone liked almost immediately. So all those things considered, I was glad we were going to the same college.
But on that other hand, I REALLY wanted him. Wanting your straight best friend wasn’t the greatest thing; it was more like the worst thing. Though no, the worst thing would be if he KNEW I wanted him—and the prospect of actually managing to keep that a permanent secret from him really wasn’t all that promising.
So, mixed feelings.
Not that he didn’t know I was gay. Chris wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t exactly in the closet. I’d never made any sweeping dramatic announcement to the world or anything like that. I’d just never tried to hide it. No one had really cared, no one that I had given a fuck about anyway. But there was a world of difference between knowing your best friend is gay and knowing your gay best friend wants to fuck you senseless. So I played it as cool as I could. I took a lot of cold showers, jacked off a lot (usually thinking of him), went out with some guys (nothing serious), and I watched Chris walk around half-naked whenever the opportunity arose.
I guess the fact that it arose quite frequently started dawning on me late in our junior year of college. Ok, it really didn’t dawn on ME, but it did dawn on the other roommate we had at the time. Steven was unashamedly tri-sexual—would try anything sexual, with anyone, anytime—and had caught on to the non-secret that I was gay pretty much immediately.
On one of those hornier-than-usual nights we had gotten into some tonsil hockey and were on our way to getting into something with a little more full-body contact when Chris had come in. He had looked at us and without any apparent second thought had stripped down to his skin, grabbed his bathrobe and walked out of the room to the showers. Steven immediately pointed out that Chris had put on a nice show for me.
I asked him why he thought it was a “show” for me, and he had replied, “Because, baby, if looks could kill, I’d be one hell of a hot-looking corpse right now. That view of his ass was meant to show you what you’re missing.”
I’d laughed at him at the time and pointed out that Chris was straight. I also pointed out that he had taken a seriously major leap to that conclusion. But after that I started wondering. First of all, Chris KNEW I was gay, and while I had never made a pass at him or had in any way given him any indication that I had EVER thought of him in “that way,” would you wander around your gay roommate with your ass hanging out? Chris knew he was good looking. He always had his pick of the chicks. Didn’t he think it might make me just a little bit hot? Though I guess that he might have just felt comfortable around me. After all, we’d been friends forever.
But still… And the more I paid attention, the more it did seem like he didn’t miss many opportunities to flash his flesh at me. Not that I was complaining, mind you.
But I guess there is always that point where things turn. My dad always used to use milk as an example. There would always be that one second when the milk was good enough to drink and then the VERY NEXT SECOND, it was sour. Of course, you never really could pinpoint that exact second—not unless you spent every moment tasting the milk. It was like that with Chris, too. There had been more moments than I could count where I had looked at him, admired him and let it go—because I knew I couldn’t have him. Then there had suddenly been that one moment where I started thinking maybe I could. Though I don’t remember actually thinking that; I just remember walking up the stairs to our dorm room and thinking that the next time he stripped off in front of me, I was going for it. “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”
Of course, when I got to our room, it was empty, which I knew it would be. I sighed and flung myself down on my bed and ran my hand over my crotch. I was horny as hell. I looked at the clock. Chris had a class until 3:15. It was 2:45 now. Steven wasn’t likely to show up until after dark—though I didn’t want Steven. I wanted Chris. Period. End of discussion.
Thinking of how much I wanted him wasn’t helping. Neither was stroking my cock through my shorts. I groaned, banged my fists on the bed and got up. I figured I needed a nice cold shower, though I knew I would end up taking a nice warm one and finishing things off. Then I’d turn up the cold water and clear my head.
So I stripped off, wrapped a towel around my waist and headed across the hall to the showers.
It was an old building. A lot of things had been renovated over the years, but for some reason the bathrooms seemed to have been left off the to-do list. At some point they had added stalls for the toilets and some partial wall things between the urinals, but the showers were like the ones we had in middle school—just a row of shower heads on one wall.
I had asked my dad, back then, why they had showers like that. Bathing was more or less a private thing, or so I had been raised to believe. God knows my mom would bitch loudly enough if anyone left the bathroom door open while they were taking a shower or a bath. My dad—who could come up with an answer or explanation for everything, most of which I only half believed—had said it was to de-individualize you, to make you know you were nothing more or less than the next guy, so that you would be more receptive to being part of the “team.” It seemed like a reasonable answer at the time. I really hadn’t thought much about it afterwards, and I guess I was never shy enough to be traumatized by having to be naked in front of a bunch of other guys. I just learned to appreciate the view.
Like the view I had when I opened the door and took a few steps into the room.
My pulse quickened as I saw him standing there, the water rushing over him like a waterfall. His back was to me, but I could picture the water trickling down the trail of dark blonde hair that led from his chest down to his balls, his skin glistening as the droplets clung to him. I almost groaned out loud and my hand instinctively reached for my cock, which was pointing to Chris like the needle of a compass pointed to the North Pole.
I stood there for a moment, stroking myself and debating over whether to lock the door or not. I really didn’t want to risk someone walking in on us, and it didn’t seem like he had heard me come in. Would he hear the click of the lock? I decided to chance it. After all, I’d be chancing much more than that in a few moments.
I turned the lock and held my breath. Having me walk into the showers while he was there wouldn’t be cause for remark. It had happened enough times before. But having me walk into the showers and lock the door… A person would have to be pretty stupid not to read anything into that.
But he didn’t seem to hear it, so I let my breath out slowly and approached him as quietly as I could. He didn’t seem to hear me as I moved toward him, the pounding of the warm water on the tile floor most likely silencing my footsteps. Even as I drew closer to him, close enough that I could feel drops of water splashing against my legs, he still didn’t seem to notice. So I tossed my towel aside.
Would I be ending a friendship or starting something new?
I stepped behind him into the shower. The water washed over me; the same water that washed over him. It was warm, sensual, and it stirred my cock nearly as much as the closeness of him. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t move—though I had to think he MUST have known someone was there. But I wasn’t going to stand there wondering about that, not with him so close to me I could feel the heat of him.
I laid my hands lightly on his shoulders, pulling him back slightly so that my body pressed lightly against his. I felt, rather than heard, the sharp intake of his breath as I pressed my lips to the back of his neck, just at the point where his shoulder and neck met.
“Mmm…” The sound came from me as the taste of the water mixed with a faint taste of soap and with the heady taste of his skin. I ran my tongue over his skin in small circles, licking the water, tasting his skin.
He answered me with a release of his breath that was half sigh, half moan as I sucked gently on his neck, my teeth brushing against his skin.
Encouraged by his response, I massaged his shoulders steadily, feeling the hard muscles beneath the incredibly soft skin. My desire for him started to consume me and I was aware of nothing but the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of him. Nothing existed in the world around me except Chris. He was everything.
I moved my lips slowly up his neck, my tongue licking his skin gently, savoring the subtle changes in his taste as I moved from his neck to his earlobe. He took another sharp breath as I nibbled lightly on his earlobe, my hot breath caressing his ear.
He turned a little, and I noticed his eyes were closed tightly, more tightly than necessary to shut out the water. I wondered for a fleeting moment just what was going on behind those eyes. Was he lost in his own fantasy? I looked down and saw him stroking his own erection.
I entwined my fingers in his wet hair, turning his head back to where it was. “No, don’t move,” I whispered in his ear, trying to keep any traces of “my voice” out of the sound.
Who was he thinking about while he stroked his cock? Did he know who was touching him?
I released his hair and resumed massaging his shoulders, working my hands slowly down over his arms, feeling the strength in his biceps. My breath quickened as I traced around the edge of his ear with my tongue and pressed more closely against him, feeling the length of his body against mine. My hands reached his waist, slipping around and up to caress his chest.
I teased one of his nipples with my fingertip as I moved my other hand slowly down his arm to rest lightly over his hand, the one that still stroked his cock. My fingers brushed lightly against his shaft as my hand followed his. I felt his body tense a little and he licked his lips—a nervous gesture he’d had as far back as I could remember.
“You need to relax,” I whispered, as my other hand abandoned his nipple to caress its way down to his hips, my fingers kneading into his flesh. I pressed closer to him and rubbed my cock slowly against his ass. He tensed instantly, almost as if he were getting ready to run away; but he didn’t run, he didn’t move. He just stood there, his breath quickening.
I laughed softly in his ear. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” I breathed, no longer trying to conceal “my voice” from his recognition.
I turned him to face me and noticed his eyes were still tightly closed. I pressed my lips gently against his, half expecting him to pull away, but he didn’t. Eyes still closed, he abandoned his self-pleasure and ran his hands over my shoulders.
I sighed at the touch of his hands. They were warm, so warm, warmer than the water that rained over us, and I felt the heat from them spread through my body. I pulled him closer, my kiss becoming less gentle, more insistent.
A soft moan vibrated his lips as he responded to my kiss, moving his tongue against mine with a slow, deliberate hunger that surprised me—and made my pulse race. Then he pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss.
I opened my eyes, ignoring the water that ran into them, and searched his face, wondering why he had pulled away when it had seemed he wanted that kiss as much as I did.
His eyes were still closed, little drops of water clinging to the ends of his long lashes, making them look even longer. He sighed and a little crease formed between his brows as he raised his hand and ran his fingers gently over my face and down my chest.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. His eyes looked slightly bemused as they blinked away the water, as if he had awakened suddenly from a dream and could not quite tell where the dream ended and reality began.
“Is this finally real?” He spoke the words in a whisper as he brought his hand back up and touched my lips with his fingertips, so lightly I could barely feel them, as if he were afraid that I might be a bubble that would pop and disappear.
I looked into his eyes as I reached out and ran my fingers along the curve of his cheek. How long had I wanted to do that, to just reach out and touch his cheek with my fingers, with my lips? I continued to massage his beautiful cheek gently, my fingers brushing his lips, sliding under his chin, caressing their way around to the back of his neck.
The question was still in his eyes and I smiled as I leaned closer to him. “Yes,” I whispered softly against his lips.
I felt his response, his lips seeking mine…but I denied them what they sought. Instead, I brought my lips to the base of his neck, licking the water from his skin. I could feel his pulse beneath my lips, feel it racing against my tongue. A soft moan broke through his lips, telling me I had found a sensitive spot, so I lingered there, sucking gently, my teeth brushing his skin. I noticed a small patch of red had formed and I teased it for a moment, tracing around the edges with my tongue.
I noticed that there was space between our bodies and remedied that unacceptable situation by pulling him hard against me. A short, hot breath escaped my lips as our cocks touched, and I wanted to push him against the shower wall and have him right then and there. But I wanted this to be more than just that, so instead, I rubbed my cheek against his and grabbed his earlobe with my teeth. My own pulse was racing, the blood pounding in my ears.
“I want you in your bed…” my voice was a harsh whisper, my breath driven hot from my lungs by the force of my arousal, “now!”
I led him from the shower, keeping his body very close to mine. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him, using it to dry his skin slightly and also to keep him imprisoned within my grasp. My eyes locked with his. I didn’t look away as I steered him backwards to the door. I paused at the door and pressed my body closer against his, pulling the towel so that it also wrapped around me, covering—somewhat—my own bare ass. With one hand clutching the towel, I opened the door just wide enough to look down the hall. It was empty, at least for the moment. Voices coming from the stairwell indicated it wouldn’t be empty for long. With a quick grin I steered him backwards through the door and across the hall to our room. I paused a moment, pressing him against the door and rubbing against him. I could feel him tense just a little as the door to the stairway clicked open. In seconds we would have an audience.
“Alex…”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I covered his mouth with mine and opened the door to our room, pushing him quickly inside. I kicked the door closed behind me and continued on across the room, deepening the kiss with every step.
I laughed slightly as we collided with his bed and I felt him lose his balance. A slight push sent him sprawling backwards. I pulled the towel from him and looked down at him. He lay there as he had landed, his lean, tanned body sprawled across the bed, his legs spread apart with one of them half off the side. On his face was a smile that managed both a look of surprise and invitation at the same time.
I pulled the towel from him and dried myself off…slowly, enjoying the slight blush that crept across his cheeks as he watched me. Satisfied that I was dry enough, and that he’d had enough time to anticipate my next move, I dropped the towel and slipped onto the bed next to him. Propping myself up on one elbow, I traced the lines of his lips with one finger then leaned over and kissed him, a soft, gentle, unhurried kiss.
I felt him move a little and I broke the kiss. As much as I wanted him, I wanted him to want it, too. I didn’t want anything he didn’t want to give. As I raised my head I looked into his eyes. I saw a tentative expression in them, almost as if he were still unsure if this were real. Or was he unsure if this was what he wanted? I was afraid to ask, afraid he might say no, it wasn’t. Then he took my hand in his and closed his eyes as he rubbed his thumb gently over my palm.
“It’s weird, but if someone really wants to turn me on, all they have to do is rub their finger over the palm of my hand.”
It had been one of those conversations you have when the beer has made your body lazy and your tongue loose. At the time he’d groaned and made a big show of gagging and saying it was “too much information, dude!”
But the signal was clear and it chased away any questions or doubts I had.
A shudder of pleasure rippled through me, each stroke of his thumb delivering fresh waves of heat. My breath quickened as my desire for him became nearly unbearable. With a deep groan, I pushed his arm down against the bed and moved my body over his, my knees straddling him. His lips twitched into a smile that cried out to be kissed, so I kissed him—hard, my tongue thrusting deep into his mouth.
His tongue rubbed hungrily against mine as his fingers clutched at my sides, pulling me closer to him.
“God, Chris!” I cried out as he arched his back and rubbed his body against mine.
He laughed a little and the smile that had twitched across his lips broadened into a slightly wicked grin that shot right through me. Then he closed his eyes and slid his hands down my back and over my ass. As he pushed up against me I could feel his hot breath against my skin.
I closed my own eyes, locking in the image of him lying beneath me, holding tight to the picture of his lips parted, short, hot gasps making them tremble.
I moved against him, rubbing my throbbing erection against his and he gasped, as if for air, and grabbed my hips and thrust up against me.
“Ahhh, God!” I moaned as the heat from him spread through me. “That feels incredible.”
“It feels so fucking good!” he gasped in response as he gripped my hips tightly and leaned his head back.
I pressed my face against his neck, my teeth brushing over his collarbone, as I began to grind myself hard against him. My breath became quick and hot, the friction between our cocks driving me nearly insane.
He moaned even louder, gasping my name as he ran his hands over my back, his fingers digging into my skin.
I groaned against his ear and rubbed even harder against him, my pace quickening to keep time with the blood rushing through my veins and pounding in my head. I could feel the pressure building within me. My head felt like it was about to explode, blood pounding in my ears, little flashes of light going off behind my eyes like fireworks, as I thrust harder and harder against him.
He kept saying my name over and over as he arched his back and rocked his hips in rhythm with mine. Then he clutched at my shoulders and turned his head, his breath hot against my ear as he groaned, “Fuck, Alex, I’m gonna cum!”
That was all I needed to hear to push me right over the edge. I growled against his shoulder and thrust harder still, but only for a moment before I felt the pressure release in me, felt the fluid of my own climax rushing from me. Almost at the same time I felt his body tighten and shudder and felt the spread of his warmth as it mixed with mine.
I lowered myself slowly down on him until our bodies touched completely. He ran his hands slowly up and down my back, his fingers gentle now, not clutching. I pressed my lips against his neck as I relaxed and my breathing started to return to normal.
“Chris,” I murmured against his skin. I raised my head and kissed him tenderly, softly, my tongue barely touching his lips.
It was a fantasy come to life, a dream come true, and it was more than just sex--much more. But somehow I couldn’t tell him what I had felt for so long.
So I looked into his eyes, hoping my eyes would tell him all the words my tongue had suddenly lost.
He smiled and brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek, and I read the answer in his eyes even before it touched his lips.
“I love you, too.”
I would like to thank Rob for ‘pointing out things,’ Andy for his suggestions and Juss for being such a punctuation tyrant and for reminding me about that nasty little rule about starting sentences with conjunctions…
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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