Page 54 of Santa of the Creek
I badly need a shower. Two guys managed to spill their beer on me before the evening was over. I stink. I’m surprised Ariel could bear to be near me. I strip and throw all the clothes in the hamper. I’ve spent so much time here the past month I have a change of clothes here. Dean is always washing my clothes. I clean my teeth. I’ve got my own toothbrush now. I pause, mid-brush, white foam around my mouth as I look at myself in the mirror. I feel like I’ve moved in without realizing it. Have I moved in? My clothes are here, my toothbrush is here, even my cat is here, and I know Dean bought bowls and all the food and treats for her, rather than bringing them from my home.
“I’ve moved in.”
Whoa.
I spit into the sink, finish my brushing and decide I’m way too tired to have a freakout now. I’ll worry about it in the morning.
The shower is heavenly. I turn the water as hot as I can take it and stand under the spray. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and relax.
“You smell of beer.”
I nearly shed my skin as Dean climbs into the shower behind me and enfolds me into a hug. “What the hell? Where did you come from?”
He puts his chin on my shoulder. “The bedroom.”
“I didn’t hear you come into the bathroom.”
“I thought you were asleep.” I can tell he’s amused.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“You were resting your eyes?”
“I was probably asleep.” I allow.
I had to have been to have missed him walking in the bathroom. I sigh and lean against him, loving the feel of his body against mine.
“You were snoring too,” he murmurs.
“Liar. I don’t snore.”
“How do you know? You’re asleep.”
I can’t really argue that, can I? And really do I care? I’m more interested in what his hands are doing, caressing my chest with soapy bubbles. A flick of my nipples makes me gasp. Yeah, I can come just from the right man playing with my tits. Dean hasn’t discovered it yet, but he will. He’s the right man. He flicks them again, eliciting another gasp.
“Hmmm, you like that?”
I can hear the interest in Dean’s voice. “I like,” I admit, my voice full of need.
He hums again but slides his hands downward to stroke over my belly. I make a noise of protest.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he says. “I’ll explore this another time.”
He’s right. We’re both tired. Although my dick has other ideas which is responding enthusiastically to Dean moving further down my body.
“I need to get off, honey,” I plead.
“Let me finish cleaning you,” he says, “then I’ll get you off so you can sleep.”
That sounds perfect.
I stand still, resting my head on my arm against the tiles as he squeezes bodywash into his hands and gives my shoulders, back, and butt a quick massage, then he washes down my legs. It’s so soothing I’m nearly asleep by the time he finishes.
Then he kind of slides up me as he stands. I have no idea how he did that without losing contact with me. I lose that sleepy thought as he wraps his hand around my cock and starts to jack me.
I’m supported by the tiles, and I have his heavy weight against my back. I just want a lazy orgasm, to dry off, and to fall into bed with him wrapped around me. I curl my toes with each slow stroke of my cock. The world has shrunk to the two of us in this stall, his hand around my dick, the steam blurring out the rest of the world. It doesn’t take long for my balls to tighten, on the edge of the need to come. I want to tell Dean how good this is but I’m too tired to do anything except let him take me over the edge, my balls emptying, cum spurting out between his fingers. I watch as it washes away down the drain.
Dean sighs, presses a kiss between my shoulder blades, and takes a step back. I miss his weight.
