A few seconds before it buzzed again, another photo. More shirtless Jake, with shadows that fell across his torso, carving his pecs deep and showing the light smattering of freckles across his shoulders and collarbone.
Just a rental. But it looks nice, right?
Quinn let that comment slide over him instead of cutting deep, reminding him how this was temporary and he shouldn’t let the feelings get too strong. No matter how easy it seemed to just let Jake in.We’re just enjoying what we have. Quinn took a couple sharp breaths to still himself and refocus.
I like it. See if you can find something similar on the showroom floor. I’ll pay top dollar.
Sorry. One of a kind. Shipped out from Washington.
But you can inspect the goods any time.
The emotions shifted with that line, to be certain. More energy and heat thrummed down below and, all alone, Quinn didn’t have any reason not to grope and paw at himself, massaging his semi.
What kind of inspection do you think I should do?
Just to make sure everything is in working order.
The conversation went dead a bit—Quinn was occupied anyway, so it didn’t bug him—but when it buzzed, another picture popped up, along with Jake’s message.
Good foundation is a must.
And there, filling his phone screen, was a tight ass, stretching the material of some gray trunks to seemingly their absolute limit, leading down to legs covered in fine strands of golden hair.
If Quinn hadn’t been hard before, he was rock-solid now.
Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me over here?
He hesitated a moment, trying to decide how risqué to be before throwing caution to the wind and letting the hormones take the victory.
You’re supposed to be the one handling wood. Not me.
Ooh. Are you hard over little old me?
What do you think?
He positioned his phone to get a good view of himself in his sweats, and maybe jutted his hips forward a little to make things look a bit more impressive, then snapped the shot and sent it over.
This is what your anticipation is doing to me. I get one shot of you in your underwear and boom. Boner.
Jake typed, then the dots went away. Dots again. Away. Quinn sat up, trying not to assume the worst. Maybe that was too much? Maybe ass was okay, but not dick? Maybe boner was too juvenile for Jake and he should have stuck with hard-on? Was hard-on less juvenile somehow? Erection was too clinical…right?
His phone buzzed and he almost dropped it trying to check the message.
As a certified wood expert, that’s some nice timber you’ve got there.
I ANTICIPATE seeing it in person soon. But I should get some dinner. Talk to you later.
Not before sending a final picture, however. Jake in his underwear again, standing in what must have been the hotel bathroom, right arm up to show his pit and his ribs and his abs, left hand grasping his package. An impressive package.
Quinn stared at it, sent a tongue-out face as a final response, then stared some more. His mind flashed to some stupid internet thing he saw, how your tongue automatically knew what everything felt like, just from you looking at it.
He sure as hell hoped that was true as he imagined tracing across Jake’s abs, his belly button, up his ribs, to his nipples, along the ridges and valleys of his arms…
Quinn tugged on his cock, slipped his finger under his foreskin and circled the head, shooting hot lightning down his shaft to race up his spine.Anticipation my ass.He tightened his grip and stroked, staring at the picture of Jake, taking in everything he could before flicking back through the other photos Jake had sent him. Teasing him.
Those pics, and Jake’s clear interest, made it a little easier for Quinn to push his worries down. The rush of endorphins flooding him as he worked his cock up and down didn’t hurt, either.
He traced the outline of Jake’s ass with his eyes, once again relying on his tongue’s sensing superpower to feel the texture ofthe fabric, the warmth and softness of the skin just above his waistband, the jutting nubs of his spine barely visible.
