Page 34 of Sweat

I touch my chin to his shoulder and murmur into his ear, “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t,” he groans. One hand covers mine on his abs while the other braces on the wall in front of him.

The shower spray dries him out, so I squirt body wash into my palm from the dispenser mounted on the wall and bring it to Tommy's cock. I make suds with how quick I stroke him.

“You may need to slim down for soccer, but your body is perfect to me. So fucking beautiful. Makes me hard just looking at you.” I grind my hips against Tommy’s ass, gliding my cock up along his crack.

“You’re not gonna fuck me, are you?” he asks, his voice doing that meek whiny thing my dick loves. “I can’t do that.”

As hot as fucking a straight boy sounds, that’s not my M.O. “I just wanna get you off, baby,” I tell him. “Wanna make this big cock erupt.”

He moans, loud and hot. The distance between his feet widens, and he puts both hands to the wall, like I’m arresting him. He tucks his chin down, watching what I’m doing to him, no doubt. Trying not to miss a single beat, I pump his shaft quickly and polish his head. I swipe my thumb over his slit to mix pre-cum with the soap bubbles.

“You got your jizz on the ceiling of my car,” I murmur, the tip of my nose buried in the wet hair above the nape of Tommy’s neck.

“I’m close,” he huffs.

“You gonna come for me, baby boy?”

“Fuck,” he whimpers, body shivering. He moans low and grunts hard. His hips jerk against me, and his cock pulses in my hand.

“Good boy,” I huff like a maniac.

I stroke him as he softens, and I rub his abs as they heave. He touches the top of his head to the wall under the water faucet and releases a haggard sigh.

A feather’s touch will get me over the edge, and I have to back away from Tommy before I accidentally come all over his ass. I take care of my needy cock back in the second shower stall with the curtain shut, and the post-nut clarity is a beast this time. Not only am I regretting how aggressive I was with Tommy, but I’m replaying everything I said to him in my head and realizing I’m totally screwed. I told him I get hard for his body, that it’sbeautiful.I told him to come for me. What was I thinking? I was thinking he’s beautiful and I want him to come for me, always.

Fuck.

When Tommy gets out of the shower, I’m already halfway through dressing. I went to my locker and got a Hornets shirt and a clean-ish pair of joggers for Tommy, so he doesn’t have to put his sweat-soaked clothes back on.

Shit is awkward now. Awkward for me, at least. I don’t know what Tommy’s thinking. Either that I’m a predator using him, or that I’m a loser being used. No matter which, the cat’s out of the bag how obsessed I am with him.

“Rowan?”

I’m forced out of my thoughts as Tommy laces up his Vans, staring up at me through his eyelashes. His towel dried hair is still damp and tousled. I have to shove my hands deep into my pockets to keep from raking my fingers across his scalp and planting a kiss on his forehead.

“What?”

“I just…” Tommy sticks his elbows to his knees, my t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For helping me.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He scoffs like I’m nuts while his eyes stare at me like I’m superhuman. “You got me this far. I’m probably making the team because of you.”

“I didn’t do anything. Your life isn’t my responsibility.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“I got shit to do, Tommy. I’m sorry.” I ball my hands inside my pockets, nails digging into my palms. “I’ll just see you back here tomorrow for round two, alright?”

Leaning back and sizing me up, Tommy asks, “What do you have to do?”

“Stuff,” I say. “I got to…clean my place. You know, clean environment fosters a clean mind. And I gotta scrub your jizz out of my car.”

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