Page 39 of Charming Like Us
A straight boy that watches gay porn. Or used to watch it. I wonder if he still does.
Wow, I sure know how to fall for them.
9
JACK HIGHLAND
Steam fogs up the shower,water slowly gliding down my temples. Dazed, head light and heady, heat cocoons my limbs. Shutting off the faucet, I grab a towel draped over the glass shower and tie the fabric around my waist. Still drifting, floating, a swelter pricking my nerves.
I shift…a little conscious that…I’m…this is a dream, but I relax and sink back into the thick, steaming warmth.
Quietly, I step onto the cold bathroom tiles, and I look up.
Oscar perches against the sink, coolly. Towel slung over his shoulder. Drawstring pants low on his waist, abs glistening…he’s wet from the shower.
His curly hair is damp, the strands brushing his forehead. Already showered, he’s in the bathroom with me. My dick rouses, pulsing for aneed. A hunger for him, and I stroke his body with my eyes. He undresses me with his gaze, even though I’m already buck-naked.
I can barely move, blood pumping in my erection. Like he’s already fisting my length. But fog and space separate us, and so I walk over to him in that heady daze.
Dreaming.
Shut that out, dude.I want to see what happens. I want to feel it.
My eyes trace his unshaven jaw, heartrate skipping, and I whisper, “How does this work?”
Oscar grips my hardness with the assuredness I need, and breath hitches in my throat. I clutch his waist, firm muscles beneath my palm.
Our mouths edge nearer, nearer.Ask me again, Oscar.I choke out, “Ask me.”
He pumps me in a pace that swells arousal, vapor and a tormenting desire wrapping around me. With my other hand, I clasp his hard jaw, but I can barely feel him in my clutch.
Dreaming…just a dream.
“Ask me,” I choke out again, our mouths grazing but not touching.Ask me if I want to be kissed.
His hoarse, deep voice says something against my lips. I can’t hear him, and I’m dying under the almost-there, the so-close, the one-breath-away of this moment. This second.
“Long Beach…” My nickname is faint.
I glance down at my cock and watch his large hand tug me. Shockwaves ripple through my muscles, my veins, my head—I’m spinning and a groan erupts from my throat.
“Long Beach.”
I jolt awake.
Oscar shakes my shoulder, standing in the aisle of the private jet. Our eyes meet, and a new type of heat bathes me.Mortified.
I’m on the plane. I fell asleep on theplaneand had a fucking sex dream!Dude,dude, dude,Jack.I’m a smooth operator. I flirt, date, and sleep with women without tripping, but around him lately, I want to go for a dive and end up belly-flopping.
Again,mortified.
“We’re about to land,” Oscar says, his hand still on my shoulder and we both suddenly zone in on that fact, his breath and my breath stilted. He pulls back, but no lie, I wish he wouldn’t.
Did he hear me groan?
Oscar has a black bandana, already rolled, and begins to tie it around his forehead. “If you need to use the bathroom, now’s your chance.” His eyes dip for half a second. To my crotch.
I glance down. Oh, fuck, Jesus, I have aboner.I’m rock-hard, the outline of my cock pressing against my dark jeans.
