by Lily Morton
He groans, and his mouth opens beneath mine. Our tongues slide together, and I lose my mind between one heartbeat and the next. Grabbing him closer, I suck on his tongue, gratified to hear his low moan and its echo coming from me.
He laces our fingers together and opens his mouth farther, kissing me furiously with low gasps of pleasure that make my dick throb.
My hands are moving over his body before I know it, sliding over the slick skin and pulling him closer, my fingernails likely leaving red marks behind. He gives a throaty groan of approval and twists sinuously in my arms, and I grab the last thread of my common sense and push him away from me. He doesn’t go far because my hands operate beyond my brain’s commands and hold on to him, my fingers digging into his arms to keep him still.
We look at each other for a long second, and then he gives me a filthy smile. “I thought so,” he says hoarsely.
“Thought what?” My voice is rough, and he shivers as if I’ve run my hands over him.
“We’re compatible, Mags. I knew we would be.”
“How?”
“We make each other laugh. It’s always a sign.”
I shake my head. “I’m fairly sure that is complete misinformation. Or comedy halls would have a completely different vibe.” I draw in a noisy breath, searching for calm. “That was a mistake.” Even I can hear the reluctance in my voice. “I don’t do this with friends.”
“I hate you beyond all bearing,” he says promptly. “Everything okay now? Can we shag?”
I can’t help my laughter this time, and my fingers caress his damp skin as I reluctantly let him go. I rub my eyes. “What on earth are you doing?” I groan.
He nudges me. “Come on. What can it hurt, Mags? We’re compatible as hell. I’m not fucking anyone, and neither are you at the moment as far as I can see.”
I startle and think back over the last few weeks. He’s right. I haven’t fucked anyone since the day we first met. I push that disturbing revelation away to be dissected, hopefully never.
He raises one eyebrow, looking devilish and entirely too composed. “See. It’s kismet.”
“I’m absolutely certain that kismet isn’t referring to fucking in saunas.”
Instead of looking cowed, he seems immediately entertained. “Are we going to do that?”
“No, we are not,” I say repressively, standing up and gathering my towel around me in a dignified manner. “I have no intention of being thrown out of here and brought up on a public indecency charge.” My practical nature rears its head. “Besides, I would probably have a stroke performing in this heat.”
He stands up too, but makes no move to pull his towel over himself. Instead, he stands facing me, and my eyes automatically drop to his dick. It’s hard like my own, and straining towards his belly button, the head flushed a violet red. My mouth waters, and his smirk shows me he’s noticed my own erection lurking behind my towel.
“What do you think?” he says far too airily. “We can keep it casual. I’m leaving in a few weeks, so you’re in no danger of me appearing with ribbons. Shame, though.” He pauses to consider that ridiculous notion. “I’ve got a lovely amber-coloured one which would have looked smashing against my pubes.”
Swallowing hard, I scrub my fingers through my hair. Then I reach out and pull him close. The abrupt move startles him, but he melts into me, pressing the long length of his body against mine. He chuckles. “Mags, this is so sudden.”
“Shut up,” I say, and I stop his clever mouth with another kiss. When I draw back, he’s flushed, and his eyes are gratifyingly bleary. “Follow me.” I turn and leave the room.
He swoops immediately to my side like we’re musketeers embarking on an exciting adventure as I head into the changing area. The huge room has wooden lockers and benches positioned around it like a labyrinth, but I’m interested in the bank of showers at the back.
I guide him through the maze of lockers until we come to the first glazed glass door. I shoot a look around me. There’s no one in sight, even though I can hear men talking from somewhere to my left. I grab Laurie’s hand, whirl him into the tiled enclosure, and pin him to the wall.
The door closes behind us and he gasps at the coldness of the tiles. But he immediately melts into me, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-lowered and fixed on my lips.
I lean closer and whisper into his ear. “This isn’t a soundproofed room, so you’re going to have to be very quiet in here. I have no desire to have my membership revoked. Do you understand me?”
I’m using my bossy voice, which has always served me well with my younger men. I should’ve known that it wouldn’t work with Laurie.
He grins in a delighted manner. “Really?” he breathes. “Shall I keep my cries of Master to myself?”
I glare at him repressively. “Start the shower,” I instruct.
He swallows, amusement finally flying away as he reaches to the side and twists the dial. Spray erupts from the rainfall showerhead. I tug at his towel, loosening the knot, and it falls away. I remove my own and, after hanging the towels on a hook, I press my body against his. I feel a strange, frantic sort of relief as our skin touches.
He’s hot and damp, his chest rising and falling in a fast rhythm, and I can’t resist the temptation. I take his mouth in a deep kiss. He moans, and the sound echoes in my dick. I pull him even closer, eating at his mouth, our tongues twining and our breaths mingling.
Eventually, I pull back, gasping for breath. He stands still, his gaze on mine, and his slightly submissive air is like pouring petrol onto a bonfire. I take another step back and lean against the wall.
“Wash yourself.” The command is so soft it can hardly be heard over the noise of the shower.
A daredevil grin crosses his full lips. Holding my gaze, he steps under the spray, lifting his face to it. Within seconds, he’s soaked, his hair clinging to his face as sleekly as a seal pelt. He turns under the water until he faces me. I swallow hard as one hand touches his chest, flicking at a nipple until it tightens, while the other hand lowers as slowly as treacle from a jar until finally, he cups his balls. He breathes in sharply, his eyes fluttering closed.
“Laurie,” I say softly but with a note of warning, and his eyes fly open.
He gives me a sly smile and arches his back, letting the water spray over his body, and my mouth goes dry as he fists his cock. It’s long and slender, and he gives a sharp intake of breath as he strokes himself.
“Turn around,” I order.
He immediately obeys, turning to face the wall and letting the water pound his shoulders and cascade down his body. His back is a graceful arch, his buttocks round and biteable.
I open my mouth to issue more commands, but he lowers his hands at that moment, grabbing his buttocks and pulling them apart. I watch the water run down his crack and something short-circuits in my brain.
Between one breath and the next, I step into him, plastering my body to his. He gives a choked sound, and I immediately push my hand over his mouth.
“Be quiet,” I hiss.
He twists his head slightly to the side, his eyes meeting mine over my hand. They’re slumberous and heavy-lidded, but that spark of mischief is still there. It’s charming—and surprisingly not irritating—and I find myself smiling back at him.
It’s worrying enough to get my head back in the game.
I remove my hand and kiss him hard, the power of it jolting him. I fasten one arm to his chest, keeping him still as I pull my mouth away.
“Give me some gel,” I say hoarsely, offering my palm. The steamy air fills with a citrussy scent. I’m glad to see the tremor in his fingers and hear his harsh breathing. It means I’m not alone with the incredible lust that’s seized me.
I kiss him again and send my hand down his chest. He’s thinner than me, but his chest is broad and covered with a light smattering of hair through which his nipples peek pinkly. I tweak them, and luckily my mouth is back on his because I swallow his startled groan.
> I pull away and kiss his ear, sucking gently on the lobe, and he pants out a low sound and backs into me. I stifle my groan in the sleek skin of his shoulder, biting down gently as his full buttocks caress my cock. Looking down, I can’t help my loud grunt as I see my cock slipping through his crevasse, the head purple and the foreskin fully retracted.
“You’re not being quiet at all,” he says, trying for scandalised but ending with amusement.
I encircle his chest with one arm again. If he’s got time to be amused, I’m not doing my job correctly. I lower the hand with the shower gel still on it and fist his cock as I lick down his neck in sucking, biting little kisses.
I raise my head, and he’s waiting for me as we kiss over his shoulder. I twist my hand on the upstroke, and he grunts and arches into my grip, looking down so he can watch his cock shuttle through my fist. I indulge myself in rubbing against him for a second, the water giving me smooth traction.
Then I release him, and he half turns in shock as I fall to my knees. Well, not so much fall. It’s actually more of a slow descent, because my knees aren’t up to too much punishment on a hard shower floor.
I gaze up at his face when I’m finally kneeling, and for a second, there’s a soft sort of tenderness to his eyes as he looks down at me over his shoulder. The sweetness vanishes as I spread his cheeks. I let the water rinse the soap away and then slide my tongue up from the back of his balls to the base of his spine.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Yes, Mags.” There’s wild excitement in his flushed face now, and no sign of amusement, and I swallow hard as he bends at the waist, bracing himself on the wall and spreading his legs for me.
His hole is dark pink like the inside of a shell, and I drop a kiss on it, feeling the crinkly texture of the skin and the tickle of the tiny coarse hairs. I kiss it again, and he chokes out a desperate sound before covering his mouth with his hand. Still kissing his hole, I reach through his spread legs and cup his balls, gently rolling them in my hand as I lick and suck.
His moan this time is far too loud, and we both go still as footsteps sound outside the shower.
“Everything okay in there?” a man’s voice calls.
My eyes go wide in alarm as I’m pretty sure it’s someone from my chambers. From what I can see of Laurie’s face, he’s somewhere between alarmed and amused. I pull away from his arse and shake my head reprovingly at him.
“Quite fine,” I call. “I just remembered some work I left on my desk.”
“Is that you, Magnus?”
Laurie gives a soft snort of laughter, and I pinch him. “It is. Is that Brant?”
“Small world,” my colleague says chattily.
“You have no idea,” I say wryly. “Well, I must be getting on, Brant. I have a lot to do.”
“Oh, dear. I know the feeling. Hope you get it all done.”
His footsteps move away, and we both sigh in relief before Laurie starts to laugh softly. “Is it me you’ve got to do?” he whispers.
I rise to my feet and spin him around. “You are incapable of obeying even the smallest of instructions, aren’t you?” I mutter. “You just had to be quiet for a few minutes, but I should have known you were incapable.”
He chuckles. “In fairness, you were rimming me and rolling my balls in your hand. Did you expect me to be silently composing a shopping list?”
I give a long-suffering sigh. “Only one thing for it.” I step into him and kiss him again.
It’s a deep and filthy kiss, and he seems to catch fire from it. His hands rise to cup my skull, and I bless the fact that we’re the same height as I grab our cocks, working them together as we continue to kiss.
I swallow all his desperate sounds, and the ones I’m making myself. There’s something so hot in feeling his body hair against mine. All my other men have been plucked or waxed to an inch of their lives, with perfect gym bodies and tanned skin. Laurie’s thin, wiry body is white in places, telling me he’s not a sun worshipper. His tan probably comes from painting outside with his shirt off because his groin is as pale as porcelain and looks curiously vulnerable below his slightly rounded belly.
No, Laurie is not the kind of man I’ve become used to. Which is why it’s mystifying that he’s the hottest man I’ve ever been with.
There’s something about our encounter that’s so raw and honest, and I’m shocked to feel my climax rapidly approaching. Laurie’s sounds tell me he is the same, and I work our cocks, pulling back slightly to watch him and feeling the water hit the side of our faces.
He arches into my grip, going up on his toes, every muscle tightening. He buries his face in my shoulder as he starts to come, and the sharp sting of his teeth makes me come too. I pump cream over my hand. It mingles with his own hot spend on my fingers until the water washes it away.
For a long few seconds, we lean against each other, trying to draw in big gulps of air without making too much noise. Now that passion has passed, I have time to wonder how loud we were, but the noise of distant conversations and laughter in the changing room seems to indicate we got away with it.
Laurie pulls back, and I’m amazed to see the grin on his face. It’s wide and slightly crooked, which shouldn’t be as charming as it is. His eyes are narrowed in amusement, the lines at the corners lengthening. I smile helplessly back at him.
“Thanks, Mags,” he says, giving me an affectionate smack on the arse before stepping back and winding a towel around his hips. “God, I needed that,” he says cheerfully.
My mouth drops open as he knots his towel and saunters out of the shower enclosure. As if he does this every day.
I stare after him. What the fuck?
We’re silent as we get dressed. I don’t like chatter after sex, but the quiet leaves me feeling discomposed. It’s irritating that it doesn’t have a similar effect on him. Once we’re outside, I hail a taxi, and he falls into the seat next to me. I send him a few furtive glances, but he only gazes out of the window, a serene look on his face as the driver makes his way through the traffic.
An afternoon shag is nothing new to me. I’ve been with a great many men in my years and in a lot more daring places than a spa shower. So, why is my heart beating fast and my dick still half hard?
I stare unseeingly out of the window, already missing Laurie’s ready chatter but trying to use the silence to decide how to play this. I want to stay friends with him, but it’s a fact that I don’t usually repeat myself either in court or in bed. I like fucking a man once and then being able to move on to the next one. This situation has all the hallmarks of a disaster.
I’m an idiot, I think morosely.
The taxi stops, pulling me from my thoughts, and Laurie pays the driver before I can get my wallet out. I follow him into the building and the lift. He doesn’t say a word, his gaze focused straight ahead, and I wonder if he’s angry with me. Or planning something that will result in a scene. I try to think of something to say, but the lift opens on our floor, and he bounds out, moving quickly down the corridor.
I gaze after him. What is happening?
He has his keys in the lock before I engage my brain.
“Wait,” I say quickly.
He stops and looks back at me. For a second, he seems almost surprised to find me standing there. As if he forgot me somewhere between the showers and home. It’s a surprisingly irritating feeling being the subject of that regard.
His brow clears. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Are you?” He stares at me, and I make an awkward gesture as if pointing towards the spa. “After the shower?” I say. “You’re okay with everything, yes?”
He looks confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I scuff my foot into the carpet, feeling like an idiot. “I don’t know,” I finally say crossly.
An expression of concern crosses his face. “Oh no. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I snap. “Just making sure we’re on the same page about it not meaning anything.”
; His face clears in relief, and he grins. “Of course, we are. Relax, Mags. It’s fine.”
“You were very quiet on the way here.”
“Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking about a painting I want to do.”
“You were thinking about a painting?” I say incredulously.
He ignores my outburst and looks at the open door longingly. “I’ve just got to…” He gestures to the door.
I wave my hand. “Don’t let me stop you,” I say, sarcasm heavy in my voice.
“Thanks, Mags,” he says cheerfully. “See you soon.”
And then he’s gone, the door closing in my face. I stand alone in the corridor, trying to analyse what I’m feeling at this moment. I can’t. I wonder whether this is what my men feel like when I kick them out.
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” I say softly.
There’s no one to hear me, and I doubt I’m even listening to myself. It’s a rare and not pleasant feeling.
Chapter Ten
Laurie
Standing outside Mags’s door, I inhale deeply through my nose and then slowly exhale through my mouth. Feeling slightly calmer, I raise my hand and knock on his door.
I bite my lip as I wait. I haven’t seen him since the sauna, which was two days ago. I’ve been painting, but honesty compels me to admit I’ve been avoiding him mostly due to the sheer hotness of our encounter in the shower. I’d reacted like a scared roadrunner, zipping a hundred miles in the opposite direction.
I’ve had a lot of sex over the years, but nothing quite rivalled that. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because Mags is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met. Being in his presence is like standing at the top of a ski run and inhaling pure oxygen. He’s scarily intelligent and challenges me every second I’m with him—a rarity, as my mind usually drifts to my work at the slightest opportunity.
Maybe one of the reasons why I find Mags so hot is that I came to know him as a friend before sex got involved. That makes him a unique fixture in my life. I tease Mags about his twinks, but I’ve hardly got any room to talk. All my relationships—even the ones that lasted a few months—have been casual in every sense of the word. Sometimes I’d tried harder, wanting to convince myself I could hold down a relationship, but every failure cemented my decision to be alone.