11
Stroke
Breathe
Stroke
Breathe
Stroke
Breathe
Don’t think about his body. Don’t think about how good it felt, Carter begged and funneled his consciousness into the rhythm of his strokes, kicks and breaths as the jets of the pool tried to push him back.
Stroke
Breathe
Stroke
Breathe
Why couldn’t he stop seeing Reid, sprawled out, naked, his legs tangled in the sheets and his lips curved in a relaxed smile as he slept? Or, Reid naked and shaving as the soft light from the sunrise made the bathroom glow in warm shades of orange? Why couldn’t he get the taste of Reid out of his mouth? It had been two days since Reid started his shift at the hospital. That morning, they’d showered and Carter had pinned him against the wall and sucked his cock until he screamed and filled Carter’s mouth with his tart, clean tasting come. Even that had to be perfect. Carter couldn’t get enough of Reid’s body or the way he tasted. His mouth, his skin, his ass, his come…
You went four years without sex. Now, you’re strung out after a weekend. But it wasn’t just the sex. Reid was doing his best to get under Carter’s skin, to squeeze into that spot in Carter’s chest that kept trying to get warm and grow. Fuck him until your cock falls off, just don’t screw up and fall in love. The messages and phone calls weren’t helping.
Reid
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Reid
Your skin tastes like apples. Apples are my favorite.
Reid
I grabbed a nap in the lounge and dreamt about you. I swear I could taste you when I woke up.
Reid
This is the first time I’ve ever wished I wasn’t at work. I miss you.
Carter felt a little irritated with himself every time his phone buzzed and he saw a new message from Reid. That rush of giddiness and longing made him wary. Getting this wrapped up, this soon was a bad sign. He’d never connected with anyone so easily and completely as he had with Reid. He needed to find some way to keep all of that out. Every time he thought he was happy with someone and they were happy with him, it all fell apart. Every. Time.
It was always the same. It was like a code. He’d say something like “I think you’re really special and I’d like to spend more time with you.” Or, he’d ask if they wanted a key to his place and everything would crash. Best case scenario, there would be a vague response and within the next twenty-four hours he’d get a call or a text message. Carter lost count of how many times he got dumped right after sex. He wasn’t sure if it was pure selfishness on their part, like they wanted to get fucked one last time or they thought they were softening the blow. It sucked so hard. He’d feel used and cheap, pretty much completely worthless as he watched his new ex get dressed and make uncomfortable small talk. There was nothing wrong with him. Definitely not. He was wonderful. It was always them. They weren’t ready for something serious or they were too focused on whatever the fuck they thought they wanted to be when they grew up.
“You know… If you ever just want to hook up, you can give me a call. Whenever.”
That was the way they usually said goodbye. The only way it would have felt worse was if they’d tossed a wad of $20’s at him before they left. He never called. He deleted their contact information as soon as the door shut behind them. Carter had terrible luck with men and he could be horrifically stupid (example: the whole weekend with Reid) but he had a very healthy dose of self respect. Now and then, someone would drunk dial or message him.
Unavailable
Hey! I’m horny and need to get fucked. Want to come over?
He’d never taken them up on it. Would he be able to say no to Reid? Carter hated that he wasn’t sure. Somehow, Carter knew that Reid would never pull any of that. A Superhero wouldn’t call at 1 a.m., wasted and calling him Carl or
Stroke
Breathe
Stroke
Breathe
Stroke
Breathe
Don’t think about his body. Don’t think about how good it felt, Carter begged and funneled his consciousness into the rhythm of his strokes, kicks and breaths as the jets of the pool tried to push him back.
Stroke
Breathe
Stroke
Breathe
Why couldn’t he stop seeing Reid, sprawled out, naked, his legs tangled in the sheets and his lips curved in a relaxed smile as he slept? Or, Reid naked and shaving as the soft light from the sunrise made the bathroom glow in warm shades of orange? Why couldn’t he get the taste of Reid out of his mouth? It had been two days since Reid started his shift at the hospital. That morning, they’d showered and Carter had pinned him against the wall and sucked his cock until he screamed and filled Carter’s mouth with his tart, clean tasting come. Even that had to be perfect. Carter couldn’t get enough of Reid’s body or the way he tasted. His mouth, his skin, his ass, his come…
You went four years without sex. Now, you’re strung out after a weekend. But it wasn’t just the sex. Reid was doing his best to get under Carter’s skin, to squeeze into that spot in Carter’s chest that kept trying to get warm and grow. Fuck him until your cock falls off, just don’t screw up and fall in love. The messages and phone calls weren’t helping.
Reid
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Reid
Your skin tastes like apples. Apples are my favorite.
Reid
I grabbed a nap in the lounge and dreamt about you. I swear I could taste you when I woke up.
Reid
This is the first time I’ve ever wished I wasn’t at work. I miss you.
Carter felt a little irritated with himself every time his phone buzzed and he saw a new message from Reid. That rush of giddiness and longing made him wary. Getting this wrapped up, this soon was a bad sign. He’d never connected with anyone so easily and completely as he had with Reid. He needed to find some way to keep all of that out. Every time he thought he was happy with someone and they were happy with him, it all fell apart. Every. Time.
It was always the same. It was like a code. He’d say something like “I think you’re really special and I’d like to spend more time with you.” Or, he’d ask if they wanted a key to his place and everything would crash. Best case scenario, there would be a vague response and within the next twenty-four hours he’d get a call or a text message. Carter lost count of how many times he got dumped right after sex. He wasn’t sure if it was pure selfishness on their part, like they wanted to get fucked one last time or they thought they were softening the blow. It sucked so hard. He’d feel used and cheap, pretty much completely worthless as he watched his new ex get dressed and make uncomfortable small talk. There was nothing wrong with him. Definitely not. He was wonderful. It was always them. They weren’t ready for something serious or they were too focused on whatever the fuck they thought they wanted to be when they grew up.
“You know… If you ever just want to hook up, you can give me a call. Whenever.”
That was the way they usually said goodbye. The only way it would have felt worse was if they’d tossed a wad of $20’s at him before they left. He never called. He deleted their contact information as soon as the door shut behind them. Carter had terrible luck with men and he could be horrifically stupid (example: the whole weekend with Reid) but he had a very healthy dose of self respect. Now and then, someone would drunk dial or message him.
Unavailable
Hey! I’m horny and need to get fucked. Want to come over?
He’d never taken them up on it. Would he be able to say no to Reid? Carter hated that he wasn’t sure. Somehow, Carter knew that Reid would never pull any of that. A Superhero wouldn’t call at 1 a.m., wasted and calling him Carl or
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