Gareth: ASAP. I'm hopping int he shower now
I can't help but chuckle.
As I'm walking out of my house, I notice my camera bag next to the door, where I'd dropped it after my shoot this week. On a whim, I grab it. I might not use it, but I'll have it if I want to.
The entire twenty-minute drive to his apartment complex, I think of positions I'd put him in to shoot him. He's got a great ass and thighs. He'd look sexy as fuck draped over a couch, ass arched so the dimples at the base of his spine would be highlighted. I'd have to play with the light to get them to look even deeper.
Or on his back in his bed, with a sheet casually draped over his lap, showing the skin of his thigh and hip but hiding the goods. I normally hide the goods when I shoot men because they can be insecure about their size or shape, while still making them look sexy. Gareth's got a great cock, though. I'd probably do some fully nude.
I'm already hard by the time I throw my SUV into park, grab my bag, and take his stairs two at a time.
I barely knock once before the door swings open, and Gareth's standing there, bottom half covered in a dark green towel.
"Hi," he says, his voice tinged with awe.
I blame my racing heart on running up the stairs. "Hi," I reply. We stand there for a few solid breaths, just smiling at each other like idiots.
"Uh, come in," he says, standing back and letting me pass him.
I normally take my time with clients, asking them about their day and building that intimacy slowly. But not tonight.
I drop my bag at my feet, knowing my camera's in a hard case, and push him against the door. His blue eyes widen.
I want to push him. See where his comfort level really is when it comes to being gay. I don't know why I feel the need to push him. Maybe it's to answer the question of if we could be more - a question I haven't even acknowledged to myself that I have.
I trust him to use his safe word if he needs it.
I press my body into his and drop my head to his neck, kissing the warm, damp skin there. I kiss and nibble gently, noticing he's freshly shaved and smells like the most intoxicating mixture of aftershave, shampoo and body soap.
His hands instantly wrap around my shoulders, abandoning the towel to the floor. I gently take his nipple between my teeth, nipping at it before sucking on it hard. He moans wantonly, bringing his leg up to wrap around my hip on his own. His towel falls to the floor, completely forgotten. I smile. Yeah, he's ready.
I stand, grip his ass and lift him fully off the ground, pinning him to the door while he wraps his legs around my waist. He's hard, naked, and rutting against me like a feral animal.
"Fuck," he grunts in surprise. I was worried that a macho jock like Gareth would take offense to being carried, but the grin on his face tells me he’s more than pleasantly surprised. He's not a small man by any means, but I lift heavy weights religiously.
He goes to take my lips in his but I pull back. It's the last remaining boundary. If we kiss on the lips it's because we're together. It's the last scrap of any kind of professionalism I haveand he's paid for tonight. I have to at least give him what he paid for.
"Not on the lips," I whisper. It's more of a plea than a command. If he kisses me, it'll be over for me. The distance and walls I've been struggling to rebuild as quickly as he's been destroying them will crumble completely. Every look, every painfully vulnerable confession, every time he showed me how great of a man and father he is takes a sledgehammer to my professional walls with such strength it should be frightening.
Pain slices across his expression for a millisecond before he drops his lips to my neck, kissing and biting the flesh there. I moan in return, gripping his ass cheeks tightly and pulling him harder against me.
"I'm going to take this ass tonight, Brockman. You ready?" I pant out, dizzy with lust.
"Fuck yes," he whispers between grunts, hands roaming all over my body frantically.
"Where do you want it?" My chest aches as my breath saws in and out of my lungs.
"Bed," he grunts, tugging at my shirt.
I hike him up my torso higher so I can carry him to the bed. His mouth and hands continue to roam, touching me and kissing me as much as he physically can.
I lay him on the bed before stepping back. It's almost like the photograph I pictured in my mind on the way here and I take a moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he really is. Crows' feet and lines between his brows show that he's aged and managed the stress of life, and they only serve to make him more handsome.
"Lemme get my bag," I say by way of apology for leaving him.
I jog to the front door, flipping the lock for good measure, grab my bag, and his towel, and jog back to the room. I pull my t-shirt off with one arm while I refile around in the bag for what I need.
I grab the lube and lay the towel down on his comforter.