All Wet
1x2
warning:Lemon
He was slim, flat plains of muscle and smooth skin, yet his ass had a curve, a wonderful curve that made the water from the shower splash and cavort, after sliding over those rounded shoulders and sluicing down his long back. His loose hair, slung over one shoulder, was being patiently shampooed, the grime and grit from our day in the training field, at Preventer headquarters, teased out with blunt fingers, and sent down the drain with bubbling white suds.
He never lets that hair of his down often, not even during sex. If I ask, then he complains that it gets everywhere, and then jokingly asks whether I'd rather he were a woman.Women were, of course, the farthest thing from my mind, or anyone else, for that matter. I was entirely besotted with Duo Maxwell, and I'm sure he knew it. When that hair did come down, it was for me alone, for my fingers to hold and to run through. I loved it, because it was strong, just like he was, and beautiful, heated with touches of fire in among the brown.
"Well?" he drawls, looking over his shoulder and through the opening of the shower curtain at me. His wet, impish face grins at me as he blinks against the spray of the steaming water. "Are you coming in or do you want me out?"
My clothes drop, my shoes kick off, and I hop on one foot to get off my socks. He laughs at me and reaches out a dripping arm to steady me. I catch it and slide along it and into the shower with him. Instantly, I'm wet as well, going under the spray to seize a kiss as my hands push his wet hair behind him, intent on other things that have swelled, needy and wanting.
It's wet, hot, torrid, and utterly satisfying, sliding soap over bodies with strong hands, and then delving into more sensitive places, preparing for what we both wanted. Pushing into him, his hands flat on the tile, and his long back curved to lift that wonderful ass, I couldn't help wrapping arms around him and bringing us as close as I could manage. We rocked together, finding our rhythm, both of us groaning with pleasure. My hand slid down, soaped and wet, and stroked him in time to my thrusts.
There is nothing gentle or soft about Duo Maxwell. Making love to him was like making love to steel. The water, making his thick hair stream over him like a wet cloak and bringing his impish face into sharp relief, did nothing to soften his sheer masculinity. I came inside of him, shouting out his name and gripping at those tight muscles, and he shot and cried out in his own orgasm, not moments later, hanging from the support of his hands, head down and panting.
I caught him up, then, and turned him to hold him against me. We both panted against each other for a few moments, before Duo chuckled and gripped the flat plains of my ass with both hands. "Love you," he said breathily and I repeated it, hot on his heels, and then took him out of there to the bedroom, to show him, again, how much.
END