Page 21 of Bar Down

“Slower.” His raspy voice does things to me and I can’t help but oblige. He lets go of my wrist and I can tell by the tightness of his muscles and the way he clenches his fists that he’s fighting hard to stay in control.Good.

I reach down to take my shoes off instead of my pants. I perch on the edge of the bed and slide off my boat shoes and no-show socks, my gaze staying fixed on Eli the whole time. Then I sit up straight and do a slow shimmy dance. If he wants a show, he’ll get a fucking show.

I try to keep my smirk off of my face so he doesn’t think I’m laughing at this interaction. It’s fucking hot, and I need him to keep going. He’s right, this needs to happen between us, even if it’s just once. I reach down and palm myself through the pants, knowing I’m already fully hard.

With painful slowness, I pull the zipper down and lean back on the bed, lifting my hips just enough so my pants and underwear can come off. Once they drop to my ankles, I kick them off, getting fully situated on the bed as I lean back on my elbows.

As if he’s in a trance, Eli takes a few steps toward me, eyes not once leaving my body. He categorizes every muscle, every scar, every tattoo. He’s seen most of me—in locker rooms and joint hotels, and in my apartment—but he’s never seen me like this. Thoroughly and completely naked for him. My cock twitches just from his proximity.

“Is that one new?” he asks, voice deep and dripping with desire. I look down at where he’s pointing—the honeysuckle tattoo that’s inked right above my heart. I falter for a second, thinking about why I got this tattoo in the first place. Like all my other tattoos, this one has a special meaning.

“Yeah,” I rasp out and keep my gaze averted.Please don’t ask. Please.

I feel the mattress dip on my left side and lift my head to see Eli hovering above. I feel his knee sliding between my legs and pushing against my thigh. One of his hands rests on the bed above my shoulder, his other reaching up and leaving feather light touches over my tattoo.

“Beautiful,” he says, laying his palm down flat over my heart. The traitorous bitch is beating a mile a minute and totally giving away how nervous I am. Eli’s lips hover over mine and my breath catches, because holy shit, is this really happening? I’ve been imagining this moment for so long.

This time, when he kisses me, Eli doesn’t hold back.

Eli

Ash is intoxicating.I might be addicted to kissing him because I can’t seem to stop. I press my full weight into him, pinning him to the mattress under me and take my time exploring his mouth and gliding my hands all over his body. He’s perfectly sculpted, all smooth skin and hard muscles—muscles that clench when I run my hand over them.

“Are you going to take off your clothes?” he asks with a heavy sigh. My mouth moves down his neck, nipping and licking at his collarbones. Ash’s breath stutters and I feel his hips pushing up, searching for friction.

“Not yet,” I say, giving him an intense look before moving my mouth lower, kissing his tattoos. His body is a piece of art, and every single tattoo is a part of him. A part of his story.

I start with his newest one, right above his heart. I’m curious to know what it represents and why he got it, but I don’t want to push right now. He seems nervous about telling me about it, so I decide to ask him later.After.

I kiss the tree that is tattooed under his ribs on the left side. The one he got in September during training camp, because it meant he could keep himself grounded. The tree is blooming on top, but underneath, its mirror image is distorted and looks a lot more like roots. I’ve always loved tattoos and learning about their meanings, but I don’t have one myself.

There is a flock of birds taking flight on the right side of his torso, starting near his pelvis and going up, up, all the way to his shoulder blade. I remember when I first saw it, two years ago, when we all went out swimming. When I asked him about it, he said he got it when he was sixteen to piss off his dad and that it represented his desire to be free and happy. I’ve been slowly categorizing little bits and pieces of Ash, taking them with me everywhere I go.

His left thigh tattoo is of a beautiful butterfly, with its wings spread. This one means transformation and personal growth, something I know he struggles with sometimes. I kiss every inch of every tattoo, moving to his right arm, where he has a vine creeping up his forearm, this one also signifying growth.

By the time I’m done putting my mouth all over him, Ash is panting and writhing underneath me. When I touch him where he most needs me, he’s impossibly hard and slick with precum. He lets out the most beautiful moan as I twist and stroke him. His head is thrown back in pleasure and I think I might have made a huge mistake. Because how am I supposed to walk away after tonight?

Swallowing the tight knot in my throat, I move lower until I can put my mouth on him. I lick him once, twice, before taking him in my mouth and as soon as I do, Ash’s hands fly to my hair, fingers threading through it roughly.

“Fuck, that feels too good,” he says, trying to make me slow down. But I’m done taking this slow. Ineedhim like I’ve never needed anyone else before. This isn’t just some hookup. I knew it was going to be like this from the first moment he suggested it.

It feels like coming home after a long day of work.

It feels like rain after a summer drought.

It feels like falling, and Ash and I—we’re inevitable.

I pull back for a second, taking his hands out of my hair and pinning them underneath his body, before saying, “Keep themthere.” Ash blinks at me through heavy lids but nods along, opening his mouth to say something. Whatever it is, it dies on his lips the moment I take him back in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head before taking him as deep as I can.

“Fuck,fuck.” Ash’s movements stutter and he tentatively thrusts once, twice. I swallow around him, digging my fingers into his hips. It only takes a few more thrusts and me reaching down to cup his balls for Ash to let go. I swallow it all down, licking him clean before letting go with an audiblepop.When I look up, his chest is heaving, his eyes are screwed shut and his hands are out from under his body, fisting the sheets.

I grin at how out of sorts he looks and make my way back up his body. His eyes fly open and he grins back, all but tackling me sideways. He kisses me hard, his hand fisting my shirt, undoing my buttons.

“My turn,” he says, nipping at my jaw and moving down, trailing kisses on my chest. His movements are rushed as he pulls me up to take my shirt off, then immediately pushes me back down and palms me through my shorts. I groan and drop my head back, letting him take over and do with me as he pleases.

“No, I think you mean it’s my turn,” I say, closing my eyes in contentment. My fingers twitch when he pulls down my layers and I expect him to go for it, but nothing happens for a long moment. I lift my head to look down at him and he’s just frozen. Staring.

“What?” I ask, concerned.

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