Page 37 of Steam

His underwear beneath is almost tasteful in comparison to the rest of his clothes, simple black briefs in a skimpy bikini cut. From the cut, Logan realizes that they’re probably girls’ panties, but they’re not frilly—just plain black cotton. Henry is half hard, his cock straining the fabric slightly and arching across the front of his hips, everything fighting for space in the tight briefs.

Logan is revisiting his original assumption that he’d never give Henry a second look. The more Logan looks at him, the more astonishingly beautiful the man is—and as practiced as his eroticism may be, every new inch of skin is a turn on.

Henry steps out of the jeans, ghosting his hand across his own groin and rocking into the touch. Logan hums appreciatively, done for now with trying to pretend like he’s unaffected. Henry has barely begun to touch him and he’s already painfully hard. There’s no hiding it at this point.

Henry returns to Logan on the couch, but doesn’t kneel this time, instead gyrating in a lazy lapdance. Logan scoots to the edge of the couch and Henry meets him, his hips working as he cards his hands through Logan’s hair. Logan reaches up to put a hand on either side of the boy’s narrow hips, but Henry bats his hands away again. Logan snorts but plays along, placing his hands back down onto his knees and watching Henry move in the silence.

The lapdance would be silly as fuck if Henry weren’t so good at it.

The boy straddles one of Logan’s legs, steadying himself against the back of the couch as he grinds lightly and adeptly into Logan. He builds his own rhythm in the silence, smiling and snaking his body into this position and that. He’s good at showing off his body and Logan doesn’t mind the chance to appreciate it.

He steps between Logan’s legs again, rocking against him steadily before spinning, pressing his ass against Logan’s belly, making lazy circles a few inches away from his groin.

It becomes too much—both too ridiculous and too long with no stimulation—and Logan grabs his hips harder this time, stroking his thumbs up Henry’s flanks.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Henry says, looking over his shoulder and grinding back harder against the erection in Logan’s pants. “I thought none of this was any good for you.”

Logan puffs a laugh out through his nose.

“Guess I’ll just be grabbing my coat,” Henry says, teasing, straining lightly against Logan’s hands.

“Fuck that,” Logan says, pulling him backwards and grinding firmly against him. “You should stay—you convinced me.”

“You’re the boss,” Henry says, rocking into him, using his entire body to stroke Logan. “You’re nice to let me stay, you know,” he says with a rough press into the other man, “considering none of this is what you were looking for.”

Logan kisses the back of his neck, his hands still on the other man’s rocking hips, and he gives in completely to the fact that he wants Henry.

Henry iscontent to let his client stroke him there on the couch—equal parts pleased by the man’s touch and pleased by the fact that he’s convinced the man to let him stay.

He grinds slowly, continuing the silent lap dance in closer quarters as the man’s big hands roam his torso, his larger body pressing into Henry’s back. Eventually he feels a searching touch at his groin, and he looks down at the tattooed hand cupping him lightly through the black, cotton panties he always wore for first calls. It’s the only cue he needs to press the pace forward.

“So, I take it you have an equally incredible bedroom somewhere in this joint?”

He begins to move to stand up from the couch.

“Hm,” the man says. “Follow me.”

* * *

Logan standsand his jeans immediately start to fall from his hips. Despite Henry’s insistence that he not undress himself, there’s no way he’s going to climb the stairs like this—so Logan kicks off the stiff jeans and leaves them on the living room floor. He pads in bare feet and boxer-briefs to the stairway, turning for a second to make sure Henry is following him.

He is.

He’s right behind Logan on the stairs, smiling up at him.

* * *

Henry suddenly feelslike he’s on equal footing with the man, now that his pants are off. They both leave their clothes behind them in the living room.

He follows Logan up the stairs—a modern, industrial number with just enough railing to keep him from feeling like he’ll plunge to his death. Henry appreciates, in spite of himself, being on eye-level with the other man’s ass, watching the muscles there work under the knit burgundy garment as Logan mounts the stairs.

The second story is predictably beautiful with the same cold but luxurious aesthetic as the first floor. They cross a sitting area and through an open doorway into a large bedroom. Logan stays near the doorway, watching Henry as he looks around the room. The bed sprawls large and modern in front of them with a dark comforter. The room is utilitarian: a lamp, a nightstand, a chest of drawers, and an oversized mirror propped against the wall. And where the living room had a spectacular view of the mountains, Logan’s bedroom boasts a wall of windows that looks out over downtown Reno.

It’s looks like a nebula, Henry thinks, watching the sparkling city night sprawl and flow 35 floors down.

“I’ve never seen Reno like this,” he admits, turning to Logan.

The man smiles strangely at him. He gestures toward the window, encouraging Henry to go have a look. And as Henry steps to the glass, he realizes there’s a large balcony too. Logan is at his side in a moment, his hand on the door handle.

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