Page 25 of Here In Your Arms

“Maybe we should skip the sauna today,” he says.

“Why?” I hear the other guy ask, annoyed.

“It’s crowded in there,” the first responds and I hear them walk away.

“Did you like that?” I whisper into Wes’ ear. “I felt you get harder.”

He moved his hips, fucking himself on my hand. “That was so much hotter than it should have been.”

“We should probably stop. I’d hate for someone else to find us,” I tell him as I slowly stroke him.

His hand slips from the back of my head and clamps around the back of my neck. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

Chuckling darkly, I resume the journey my mouth was taking on his skin. As I reach the tip of him, I squeeze Wes gently but firmly. His back arches and a small whining noise comes from him. My breathing is harsh and I’m sure it’s loud in his ear, but I can’t bring myself to care. His hard, sweaty body, fully dependent on mine, is heaven and gives me a heady power rush. Typically, as switches, neither of us will go super dominant during sex, but in this moment, I feel him submitting more than usual, allowing me full control.

He pulses lightly in my hand as I resume my strokes. Picking up my pace, my hips start to move almost unconsciously, seeking friction against Wes’ ass. Wes turns his head again, seeking my lips, and I meet him eagerly. Invading his mouth with my tongue, I groan in pleasure at the feel of his body, his mouth, his cock slipping in and out of my fist as I stroke him, and he fucks it at the same time.

“You gonna come for me?” I ask.

“Yes,” he gasps.

“I can’t get enough of you, babe, your body, your cock. I’m so fuckin’ hard for you.”

“Oh god, I want you.”

“You have me, baby,” I tell him, moving faster. “Now give me all your cum. Spill it all over my hand so everyone knows you’re mine.”

I feel him explode on my hand, his cum trapped between my skin and his shorts, making everything more slippery. Wes’ eyes are closed, his head resting on my shoulder and his mouth open as pleasure rips through his body. He’s groaning as his dick twitches in my hand, and I shower kisses on him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous when you come,” I tell him.

He chuckles lightly, and his lips meet mine in a light kiss. “Let’s go get cleaned up,” he says.

“Give me just a minute. I’m enjoying holding you,” I confess.

Wes sighs happily and stays still as we sit there with each other in peace; my hand down his shorts and my other arm around his body, just holding him to me. I’ll do anything I can to ensure he never doubts my love for him.

Chapter 10

Wes

Work was rough today, and as I stand in the shower, ridding myself of sweat and grime, my mind is running a million miles an hour. Our crane broke in the morning, and we can’t get a new one until tomorrow, and my torque wrench kept breaking screws despite how gentle I was trying to be. My ratchet wrench broke several bolts, and I almost threw the damn thing by the end of the day. Sighing, I turn my back to the spray and put my hands on the wall to brace myself and let the hot water run down my back.

My mind drifts to Rory, wondering what she’s doing. We texted some this week, but we haven’t made plans yet. She seemed off the other day, so I didn’t push for plans. It’s hard to tell over the phone, but her texts seemed short so I gave her space that day and just sent a few over the last couple days. Kyle’s away at a conference, so the house is quiet, leaving me to my own thoughts.

Deciding I should be done, I finally turn off the shower and get dressed. Standing in the doorway of our room, I glance down the hallway to our spare room and start walking that way. My guitar sits, waiting patiently in its stand, and I grab it, sitting on the low back stool we keep in this room. My fingers act on their own, strumming and plucking out whatever tunes come to mind. I pull out some music sheets, basic chords with the words to popular songs, nothing fancy. Letting myself get lost in the music, I can feel the tension slowly seep out of me.

I’ve heard people say music is their therapy, and I’m sure it’s great for them, but that’s not why I play. There’s always been a joy that comes with playing music to me, and I have no desire or skill to be professional, but it makes me happy. Sometimes it helps with stress relief, but sometimes it doesn’t. Tonight seems to be one of those nights where my stress is melting away. When I finally check the clock again, it’s past dinner, but not yet late.

Green eyes pop into my head and before I can think twice, my feet are carrying me to my truck, keys in hand. The drive to the pub is quick and there’s one last parking spot that I snag. It’s a bit in the back but that doesn’t deter me. Noise assaults me as I walk in and my ears are mildly tortured by an off tune voice. Looking toward the back, I realize they’re having a karaoke night, and what the current singer lacks in skill, they make up for in enthusiasm. Good for them.

The bar is full up, but I can see her slinging drinks like a pro, handing out fake smiles as she does so. It’s a good fake smile, but I’ve seen the real thing and I know this isn’t it. Eyeing the bar, I see someone with an empty glass, and I walk up to them, placing a hand on their shoulder.

“Looks like you’re done,” I say amicably, but firmly.

“I was thinkin’ about another round…” the guy says, eyeing me.

“What round is this?” I ask.

---