Frank glanced down, realising he hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing yet. Heat rushed into his cheeks. He gestured at the shower. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll join you in a second.”
Stefan grinned, then winked and slid past Frank, no doubt deliberately brushing against him. Frank swallowed hard. He glanced after Stefan, catching a glimpse of that gorgeous arse before Stefan stepped into the shower.
He shook himself and concentrated on getting out of his clothes, a task that wasn’t usually quite this difficult. As he dropped his tee into the hamper, he couldn’t help one last glance at the uncapped toothpaste on the counter. His stomach tightened. He didn’t feel as guilty about this as he thought he should have, and he felt guilt about that. Like he was moving on before he was ready to let himself move on.
“You need this,” Geoff had told him a while back when the matter of dating had come up again. “He’d want you to be happy instead of staying home alone with his ghost.”
“Exactly,” Mike had added. “Go for it, man.”
He’d chickened out then, though. Not nearly ready, despite the encouragement.
Frank glanced at the glass panel, and the broad-shouldered silhouette behind it. The guys were right. Andrew had emphatically told him not to stay alone forever. So, in spite of his own reservations and those of his two best friends, Frank tossed a towel onto the counter to cover up that uncapped toothpaste and stepped into the shower with Stefan.
His mood shifted immediately when Stefan turned and faced him. Fuck. The kid looked good naked, and he looked even better with water dripping from his military-style haircut and running over those toned pecs and abs. The grunge of the day was gone, and the only dirt left was right there in Stefan’s hungry eyes and wicked grin.
Stefan slowly licked his lips. “You know, I had a thought while I was in here by myself.”
“Did you?”
“Mm-hmm.” Stefan pressed himself against the wall so Frank could move past him and get under the water. As Frank let the water rinse away some of the dirt and sweat, Stefan faced him, arms folded across his chest, dark hair plastered to his sculpted forearms. “Wouldn’t want you falling and busting your ass in here, would we?”
“No, I suppose we wouldn’t.”
His grin broadened to Cheshire cat proportions. “Can’t fall if you’re already on your knees, can you?”
Oh. Fuck.
“No.” Frank gulped. “I can’t.”
Stefan pointed at their feet. His eyebrows flicked upwards. One arched slightly higher than the other in true do I have to repeat myself? form.
Frank’s knees were already bordering on unreliable, so he let them bend and eased himself down. The hard surface hurt, but that didn’t matter too much. Not when that cock was inches from his face.
He looked up at Stefan. As they made eye contact, Frank shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that Stefan—the man who was so inconceivably hot in any attire he did or didn’t wear, or engaging in any activity at all—was even hotter from this vantage point.
Stefan ran his long fingers through Frank’s wet hair. “I’m going to fuck you tonight.” He pointed past the shower door towards the bedroom. “In there. But first, I want to know what your mouth can do.”
Frank started to lean forwards, but Stefan gripped his hair and stopped him.
“Not yet.” Stefan took his cock in his hand and stroked it slowly, inches from Frank’s face. “You’re not going to make me come like this. Understood?”
Frank nodded as much as Stefan’s grasp would allow.
“You’re going to do as I say?”
“Anything.” As soon as he’d said it, Frank knew he meant it. Anything. He didn’t feel any shame or guilt about it, either. With Stefan, it seemed natural, like it was okay to tap into that part of him and let it run where it wanted. The thought that he was now at the receiving end of Stefan’s professional talents flitted over his brain, but failed to have any impact. He’d watched him long and often enough to know this was something Stefan enjoyed. That hard-on left no question open.
Stefan’s lips twitched in a brief smile. “Similarly, you won’t come.”
That would be harder to accomplish. With every passing breath, he got more turned on. As intoxicating as the build was, maybe they should pace . . . Whatever. Leave the pacing to Stefan. “Okay.”