Page 15 of Peep

He climbs out, soaked through, leaving a large puddle at his feet. He glares at me, not moving, obviously contemplating my offer.

“Come on, please. I admit I took it a little far. I shouldn’t have dragged you in. Let me give you some clothes,” I plead again, trying to suppress my grin.

“Fine.” He stomps towards the exit, and I enjoy the view of his wet trousers clinging to his arse.

The ride up to my apartment is definitely one of our more excruciatingly silent ones. I somehow manage to keep my mouth shut through all the floors and all the way to my apartment door. But as I slip the key into the lock, I can’t help the titillation that flows through me at being in my space together. Knowing he’s already been in here without my permission, probably to sniff my boxers, is hot. He already knows the exact layout of my bedroom and what I keep under my spare pillow.

“After you, you know the way,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, shoving past me and stalling in the entryway.

I squeeze through, searching for something suitable for him to wear. Rummaging through my dress shirts and trousers, I find some that are a bit snug on me but should fit him just fine.

“These should do,” I shout through to the other room.

When I turn around, Anders is in the doorway, looking up at the fan. He quickly averts his eyes when he knows he’s been caught. Checking out his craftsmanship, I see. I chuckle to myself, close the wardrobe and bridge the gap between us.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, putting his hand out to take the hangers from me.

As I pass them to him, our fingers brush, lingering longer than necessary. He rewards me with one of those dimpled smiles. We basically rubbed our hard dicks against each other in the pool, but that gentle brush and smile makes my stomach flutter.

Anders starts to strip, then pauses. “I should probably get changed in the bathroom.”

“Sure, all yours.”

As much as I’d love to see him in the nude, I don’t think he’s the exhibitionist in this dynamic.

While Anders gets changed, swearing occasionally in his usual miserable manner, I can’t help but smile fondly. I like that he’s in my space.

Whipping off my swim shorts, I slip into a white jockstrap and settle on the cool sheets. A boring pair of black boxers would’ve been more appropriate, but it doesn’t hurt to tease my little lion and show him what he’s missing.

Pulling my pillows up against the headboard and sitting back, I smirk at the purple dildo, casually placing it beside my thigh with the bottle of lube. Anders is going to have a fucking heart attack when he sees it, and I know I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

He exits the ensuite, adjusting the shirt collar. His eyes pop when he sees me sprawled out for him. Damn, I feel positivelyferal seeing him in my clothes. In his hand, I notice his scrunched-up, wet clothes, including his boxers.

“Oh, I didn’t give you any boxers. My bad.” I smirk, nodding at his wet clothes.

“It’s fine; I’m not against going commando every so often,” he replies, softening his shocked expression.

I bite my lip, trying to suppress the rumbling moan that comes from my chest.

“Good to know.”

He tries hard not to smile, however, I see that dimple twitch. He’s so cute, I could scream.

Anders’ eyes dart around the bed until they land on the dildo resting against my thigh. He blows out a harsh breath. “I should get back to work,” he says while toying with his wet fringe.

“Of course, don’t let me keep you.”

He power-walks across the bedroom, but as he reaches the door, I shout, “Anders!”

He comes to a halt and grips the door frame, refusing to turn and look at me.

“Midnight.”

“What?” he croaks.

“The show starts atmidnight.”

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