Page 40 of Double Dared
Harrison didn’t hold back. He kissed me just as hard, tongue meeting mine with brutal force and heated breaths moving between us.
By the time my hands found his ass, we were both drenched, and my skin was raw from the heat of the water. It was perfect. It was absolutely fucking perfect.
Harrison’s arm flailed through the air, and the glass door of his shower shut behind me. He took a decisive step away from the wall, turning us around and pinning me against the tiles instead with one hand splayed across my chest. Breath left me abruptly, and I inhaled slowly as I looked at him, water trickling down his face and muscled torso. He leaned in, pressing his body hard against mine, trapping me in the best place I could want to be in.
I refused to give this any more thought than it needed. I let my brain operate on automatic, not letting my thoughts stray into the questions still swirling around us. What mattered, just here and now, was that Harrison’s weight squished me against the tiles, and his mouth found mine, and his hands moved down to my ass.
Tension soared through me as his fingers sank deep into my flesh, holding my cheeks firmly at first, then pulling them apart a few seconds later.
I could feel him smiling. He pulled his head back just enough to whisper against my lips. “Does that scare you?”
“No,” I huffed. But then, “It’s just…not what I had in mind.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, a little more playful than his usual self. I liked this version of him. I felt like I knew this version, but it had been hidden beneath the surface, and he didn’t show it to people as much. But I’d met the real him before. The Harrison who would stand in a crowded room and gaze at me because he was lost in the moment; the Harrison who would hold my hand and dance with me; the Harrison who would gladly let me run my wet fingers through his hair so people would think we’d had sex. “And what did you have in mind?” he asked.
I bit my lip and moved my hands down the sides of his torso, over to the small of his back, and down his firm ass. “Something more like this.” My fingers pressed into his flesh, nearing the middle of his ass, and tugged him closer.
I could feel his body react to it, a throb so hard it heated my abdomen, where his cock was trapped between us. Upon feeling it, mine reacted just as hard.
Harrison wore a mysterious little smirk that looked almost like a dare. “You think you can top me?”
“I think I want to try,” I said. The mental imageappearing before my eyes was hot enough to fuel me through the night. I wanted him splayed on his bed, chest pinned against the mattress, ass lifted high, arms spread out, legs shaking with exertion while sweat broke over both our bodies. Nothing less than that would put out the wildfire that consumed me just now.
Harrison never broke eye contact, never wiped that smile off his face, but he stepped back from me, picked up a bottle of shampoo, and poured a generous amount into his hand. He brought his hand to my head and began to rub it over my hair, spreading foam through it before doing the same to himself.
I let him, silently, as new questions welled behind my closed lips. Was he not into it? Would he rather fuck me instead? Would I want that? I wasn’t afraid of trying; I was afraid of failing, discovering that it wasn’t at all what I wanted, and effectively making this weird and wild thing impossible.
I didn’t want it to end.
Water poured down on us, washing out the shampoo, but Harrison was busy with the bodywash, rubbing it over his muscles, then pulling me close and doing the same to me. He turned me around, after a few moments, and pressed his chest against my back, hands moving down my front as the bodywash foamed over my muscles.
His hand didn’t stop when he reached my abdomen, and he wrapped it around my hard dick, giving it a teasing stroke that went no further. His other hand, just as naughty, moved down my back andbetween my cheeks, passing gently over my hole and shooting me with a sensation of such tension, such tautness, that I was near the snapping point.
Harrison was gentle, but he was thorough. He rubbed my muscles, massaged my back, and even knelt behind me to knead my thighs with slippery fingers, rubbing the tensions away. The temptation to turn around and face him, to see him on his knees and looking up, was so strong that I almost did just that, but I resisted it. I resisted it because I thought he was going somewhere with this, and I was too curious to see where.
When he had touched every last part of me, when he had covered me in foamy bodywash and rubbed me clean under the hot shower, he stood and touched my shoulder, turning me around to face him. “There,” he said. “You can get us some music and wine.”
I blinked and stared at him. “What about…?”
Harrison laughed. “We have the whole night, Taylor. And you need to give me twenty minutes if you expect me to bottom for you.”
“Oh.Oh.” I nodded, my heart tripping. There was something incredibly hot about the secrecy around it, the subtleness, the mystery. I lived in a house that was pretty evenly split between the straights, the gays, and the bisexuals, so it wasn’t a wholly novel concept. It just hadn’t occurred to me sooner that spontaneous sex wasn’t so spontaneous for queer men. “Kiss me, and I’ll go,” I said.
Harrison cupped my cheek and pulled me in,kissing me deeply until my knees were weak. I could get used to this. I could very much get used to his lips on mine, his mustache burning my smooth skin, and his muscular arms wrapping around my body.
He spanked my ass lightly as I turned away from him, and it surprised me. More than that, it felt oddly good. The sting was barely noticeable, but the intent was clear and firm and hot, a reminder that Harrison was a big, bulky man with a strong hand and a clear interest in my ass. Or a curiosity about it, at least. And it made me wonder, as I toweled myself dry and stepped out of the bathroom, naked and flushed, if bottoming for him was something I’d want to try.
If I were to try it for anyone, it would be for him. I’d never had even a passing curiosity to play with myself like that, but if it set Harrison’s eyes aflame and made him grunt and moan and turn red, it would be worth the effort.
Even the passing thought alone made my dick harder, and it had only just gone soft for the first time since he’d told me to take my shirt off.
In his bedroom, I opened the massive wardrobe and looked through the shelves of elegant pants, a long rack of fitted shirts, a shelf of expensive shoes, a displayed box of cufflinks, a collection of sunglasses. Dammit, where were his couch-potato-stays-inside clothes? I went from one door to the other, opening the wings and examining his things without much concern that Harrison would mind me snooping around. It was a freeing feeling, and doing this distracted me from theaching erection and the breathtaking heat coiling inside my chest.
Behind one of the doors were shelves I’d been searching for, with T-shirts and stacks of sweatpants that looked like they’d never been worn, and below them, drawers. I wondered if opening his drawers was a step too far. Then I wondered how he might react if he began to undress me, only to see his own underwear on me.
I went for it, but ended up proving my nerves right. Though his boxer briefs were all stacked neatly on the left side of the wide drawer, the right side contained items that were much more interesting. A predictably large bottle of lube, a box of condoms, plugs in three sizes, a long string of beads that went from grape- to golf-ball-sized, dildos that looked like they required a good deal of training to handle, a vibrator, handcuffs, a mouth gag, a blindfold, and an entire assortment of strips of silk.
I picked up the top pair of boxer briefs, black with an orange waistband, and pulled them up my legs until my dick was packed hard inside the soft, quality fabric. These felt much nicer than the brand I wore. Then again, I never paid much attention to brands. The sweatpants had the same advantage, on top of clearly never having been worn much around here, and the T-shirt was light and airy. Now I found myself going into the kitchen, entirely dressed in Harrison’s clothes. They were a size or two bigger than my fit, but I wore loose and baggy clothes whenI wanted to be comfortable, so it was a familiar feeling.
