He didn't say a word. Just let his hand graze mine--then gave the lightest tug toward the locker rows.
We didn't speak.
He turned down the same narrow corridor. The steam still clung to the walls, and the air was thick with the sound of distant water and our breath.
The far stall.
The one I'd used. The one he'd invaded.
Now, he opened it for me.
I stepped inside first.
He followed.
The door shut behind us with a soft, final click.
We stood there, barely inches apart, damp and shirtless, our breath fogging the narrow space between us. My pulse beat in my ears. The sound of the locker room faded.
And then--he kissed me.
Not like before.
Deeper. Hungrier. Wetter.
Like he was tasting a secret. Like he'd waited years, and was afraid it might vanish mid-kiss.
His mouth was warm, firm, slightly rough from chlorine. His stubble scraped against my skin--just enough to burn. His hands came up, cupping my jaw with a kind of gentleness that wrecked me. My knees weakened instantly.
I melted into him. Couldn't stop it.
His body was solid--thick with power, sweat-slicked skin over muscle. I could feel his chest against mine, the way it moved when he breathed. His pecs were broad and warm, still damp, the dark hair across them curling against my bare skin.
I could smell him now. Not just soap and chlorine--but him. Salty and clean, male in a way that hit low in my gut and made my thighs ache.
His tongue slipped between my lips--slow, testing, confident. I opened for him without thinking. Let him explore me, fill me, consume me.
My cock twitched, throbbing against the tight fabric of my jammers.
I moaned into his mouth.
His thumbs stroked the edge of my jaw. My hands hovered uselessly for a second--then I reached for him, not sure where to go first.
He guided me.
One of his hands left my face, gently took my wrist, and placed my hand flat on his chest.
The hair was coarse, wet. His pecs flexed slightly beneath my touch, like he knew exactly what I was feeling and loved it.
Then his hand moved mine lower--down the taper of his torso, over hard abs still damp with sweat and steam. He stopped at his waist, nudged my fingers around his back.
His ass.
Firm. Round. Barely covered by the jammers. I squeezed tentatively.
He groaned into my mouth--low, needy, like the sound was dragged from somewhere deep.
It hit me like a jolt straight to the base of my spine. I gasped.
His mouth moved to my neck, kissing down the line of my jaw, then under my ear. Hot breath, slick lips, scraping stubble. Every nerve in my skin lit up.
He didn't ask.
He didn't need to.
His fingers found the knot at my hip. Undid it in a single pull. My jammers slid down my legs and hit the floor with a wet, heavy sound.
I stood there. Naked. Cock hard, flushed, leaking.
He stepped back just an inch and looked at me.
Really looked.
Not with hunger.
With awe.
Like I was something he'd imagined, and couldn't believe he got to touch.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You're perfect."
The words hit me harder than the kiss.
I looked down, half ready to hide myself--but then he dropped to his knees.
No hesitation.
And I stopped breathing.
His hands slid up my thighs. Slow. Firm. Possessive. They didn't tremble--he wasn't unsure. He knew exactly what he was doing. Like he'd played this scene in his head a hundred times. Maybe he had.
His thumbs stroked the inside of my legs, just short of where I was hardest. Teasing me. Controlling the air between us. Making me ache for it.
Then he kissed my left hip. Just a soft press of lips. Then the right. Then the space below my belly button.
His mouth was warm. Open. Breathing me in.
I twitched. My cock jumped, full and heavy. He hadn't even touched it yet, and I was already leaking.
I thought he'd go straight for it, but no. He shifted, leaned in to the side, and pressed his face under my arm.
He licked.
Not soft. Not quick.
Slow.
The wet drag of his tongue through the hair there made my legs tremble.
He kissed it, then licked again--long, deliberate, deeper this time. My head hit the tile behind me.
"Fuck," I whispered.
He smiled against my skin. "I said I wanted all of you."
Then he did the other side--just as slow, just as filthy. My toes curled against the floor.
He moved lower. Pressed a kiss into the crease where my thigh met my groin.
Then his tongue was on my cock.
One slow, wet lick from base to tip. The kind of lick you don't forget. The kind you feel after.
I moaned--out loud this time. Couldn't help it.
Then he opened his mouth and sucked the head in.
Warm. Wet. Tight. The pressure was perfect.
His lips sealed around me and sank--inch after inch--until I felt the back of his throat flutter around the tip.
I gasped.
My hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging in.
He bobbed his head slowly, working my cock like he meant it. Like it mattered. He moaned around me, and the vibration made my whole body jerk.
I couldn't believe this was real.
