•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
The pool felt warm and steady as our kiss deepened, shifting from something casual to something way more intense. The slow, wet movement of our lips made everything else fade, the ocean, the tiles, even the knowledge that we were outside and could potentially be seen by some persistent seagull.
Water cascaded over us, slicking our skin in the soft evening light. Damien’s hands found their way under the waistband of my soaked shorts.
His palms were hot against my hips, thumbs pressing into that sensitive skin above my bone, almost like he was reminding himself he could take whatever he wanted.
I was pressed against the cool tiled wall of the open-air enclosure, the ocean shimmering just beyond the low stone barrier.
Each time he got closer, the hard line of him against my stomach made it hard to pretend I had any control over the situation.
I kissed him back just as fiercely, one hand tangled in his wet hair at the nape of his neck while the other slid down the firm plane of his stomach, slipping under the waistband of his shorts without a second thought.
The moment my fingers wrapped around him, he let out a low, rough sound that went straight to my core. He was already thick and heavy in my hand, the water making everything slick at first; as I adjusted my grip,
I began stroking him with long pulls from base to tip, feeling the vein along the underside pulse under my palm.
I could map the exact shape of him now, the slight curve, the way the head flared when I dragged my thumb over it and just that knowledge made my own shorts feel way too tight.
Damien kept kissing me through it...slower now, deeper.
These were the open-mouthed, hungry kisses that sent my pulse racing.
Yet every few seconds, he’d pull away just enough to curse under his breath against my lips.
"Damn...your hand feels better than it has any right to," he muttered, his voice thick with desire.
The way he said it sent heat rushing up my neck, even as I tried to maintain a neutral expression.
I twisted my wrist on the next upstroke, my thumb swirling over the head in a slow circle, spreading the precum that was already beading there, and the filthy sound he made almost made me forget we were still outside.
"You’re responding pretty fast for someone who spent the whole day looking smug," I managed, even though my face was burning and my shorts were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "I’m hardly even trying."
He laughed, low and breathless, before gently biting my bottom lip.
"Keep that up, but don’t complain when its my turn to make you lose your mind."
His forehead dropped against mine for a moment, water dripping from his hair onto my cheeks.
Then he spoke softer, almost like he was confessing.
"Are you planning to finish what you started, or just tease me?"
I slowed down intentionally, dragging my fist down his length with a lazy rhythm just to see how his jaw tightened.
The water mixed with the slickness at the tip, making every stroke obscenely smooth.
"Maybe a bit of both."
"That’s it... slower. Fuck...yes, just like that."
His words were half command, half plea, and the blend of his usual smug control with a rough edge sent something heated coiling low in my stomach.
I maintained that relaxed rhythm, twisting my wrist at the top of each stroke, using the water and the precum pooling at the tip to keep everything smooth.
His hips started moving involuntarily against my hand, thrusting into my grip with tiny, helpless thrusts, and every time
I tightened my hold, he’d curse again, his voice muffled against my lips as he kissed me like he couldn’t bear to be apart from me.
I could feel when he started getting close, his breathing became uneven, his free hand braced against the tile beside my head, and his body tensed in focus.
The muscles in his stomach flexed under my other hand; his cock twitched hard in my grip. I didn’t speed up.
I just kept my steady, thorough strokes, my thumb sweeping over the slit with every pass, watching his eyes go half-closed and dark.
When he finally came, it was a low, punched-out sound vibrating against my lips, his forehead pressed firmly against mine.
Hot pulses spilled over my fist in thick, messy stripes that the shower water instantly began to wash away, streaking down my wrist and disappearing into the drain.
I continued to stroke him, gentler now, milking every last tremor until the aftershocks had him shivering against me, and his kisses turned softer...almost grateful.
For a long moment, we stayed still, just feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the lazy brushing of his mouth against mine.
The water kept pouring over us, warm and steady, with only the sound of the shower and the distant ocean filling the air.
Eventually, Damien’s breathing evened out enough for him to start laying slower, softer kisses along my jaw and the corner of my mouth, those gentle affections that managed to undo me even more than the heated moments.
"Chef’s probably finished dinner," he murmured against my skin, his voice still a bit rough. "Are you hungry, Oliver?"
I shook my head without thinking, to.be honest the truth was food was the last thing on my mind.
My body still felt tight and achy, every nerve ending alive from the way he had looked and sounded while falling apart in my hand.
The thought of sitting down to eat felt almost ridiculous when I was still so fucking turned on.
"I had too many snacks this afternoon. I’m fine."
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, that familiar devilish smirk creeping onto his face.
"Are you hungry?" I shot the question back at him, since admitting how much I wanted him to keep touching me was not an option.
"Starving to death." Damien nodded slowly, the smirk widening. "Not for food, though."
I frowned, still flustered and a little distracted by his hands still resting on my hips.
Oh...shit, I could see where this was going.
"Then what do you want?"
He leaned in until his lips brushed against my ear, his voice dropping into that low, private, sexy tone that always spelled trouble.
"Why don’t you take a wild guess, sunshine?"