He moans as I massage around his hairline, then I use my thumbs and focus on the pressure points between his neck and shoulders.
“Feels good,” he murmurs.
“I’m pretty skilled with my hands.”
He makes a noise but doesn’t say anything. I continue for several minutes before I tell him to drop his head back slightly.
His eyes open up and connect with my gaze as I use my thumbs to press between his eyebrows, massaging gently. We stay locked in on each other for a couple minutes before he closes his eyes again. After another sixty seconds or so, I stop, strolling around to stand in front of him.
“I hope it’s a little better.”
“It is. Thank you.”
The air between us feels heavy—thick with an undercurrent of feelings neither of us is ready to talk about. Something shifted after he opened up. We both say we know nothing will come of this, and he says he can’t change, but there’s an understanding now. I get why he’s the way he is, and though I wish it could be different, I’m not annoyed by it anymore. I want to make him happy. I want to show him that men can be together and how it doesn’t mean you’re lesser than.
“Can I admit something?” I ask, wanting to get back to what we’re comfortable with.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve thought more than once about doing something in here.”
His brow arches perfectly. “Like what?”
I laugh. “A little of everything, if I’m being honest. But, let’s start with this,” I say, getting to my knees. “Maybe it’ll help with your headache.”
He spreads his legs, a smirk on his lips. “In the name of science, I think we should try.”
I grin and undo his pants, reaching into his boxer-briefs to extract his cock without having to remove his clothes.
My own erection throbs in my pants as his hardens in my mouth. I take him deep, then stroke him expertly while my tongue swirls around his crown. I cup his balls in one hand, massaging them gently before lowering my mouth and sucking them in my mouth one at a time.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his hand landing on my head. “Your mouth. I’ll never tire of this mouth.”
I moan, letting my tongue drag up his shaft before I envelope him between my lips, his cock sliding over my wet tongue and touching the back of my throat.
“I’m gonna come,” he grunts.
My eyes find his as I bring him to the peak of his desire, and then his head falls back as he comes undone, exploding in my mouth with a guttural roar.
It takes him a minute to catch his breath, and as I’m swiping a thumb over my lips, he gazes down at me, and the vulnerability in his eyes is apparent. “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to leave.”
Aleksander
27
A monthafter opening up to Jay about my past, and he’s still willing to be with me in the only way we can be—secretly and without the promise of much more than sex and a quasi relationship that might look weird to anyone but us.
We keep things at work professional, and he’s been doing exceptionally well. According to the marketing managers, he’s in the top three of the group, which means he’d likely be offered a job here once it’s all said and done.
Thinking about that makes my stomach knot up. The idea of him having a job here just really solidifies that his life is here and mine is in Chicago. I’m actually heading back in four weeks and this will officially come to an end.
Our relationship, if you will, has developed into a little more than just sex. We hang out in my room, watching TV and laughing. We’ve shared numerous meals together, but only in my suite, and he’s gotten me back down to the pool a couple more times.
He hasn’t brought up the fact that I still haven’t kissed him or taken him in my mouth, and it honestly makes me like him even more. It’s not normal. I’m aware of that. So the fact that he’s been able to move past that says a lot, probably more than he realizes.
When we sleep, we touch each other now. He’ll either end up under my arm and on my chest, or I’ll have an arm draped over his torso as we lay side by side.
Tonight, he’ll be spending time with his friends, because usually we’re holed up in my hotel, and his friends have been asking questions.