Except that’s not what happens at all, because the second I close my eyes, Hardy’s face fills my mind, and all the blood in my body rushes to my cock.
Sometimes I fight off these urges. I don’t want to complicate things with him or make it too difficult to be around him. But other times… it’s too overwhelming, and I shamelessly give in.
Like right now as I soap up my hand and run it down my hard cock, groaning as I do.
My mind drifts back to the other night, and Hardy sharing my bed. How I wish he’d share my bed for real. Then I’m back in the moment a few weeks ago, him pinned beneath me. I imagine letting every fear go and kissing him. Him kissing me back. Us tangling together on the floor.
And then my mind is torn between whether I’d rather see him come and listen to every sinful noise he’d make or have him take care of me.
Never mind. It’s that one.
“Fuck,” I moan, stroking myself faster.
My heart rate ticks up, and I rest one hand flat on the wall to steady myself as that weightless feeling washes over me.
I imagine the sounds of him choking and gasping around my cock. The way his head would bob. How he’d look up at me from under his lashes like he knew it was the best blow job I’d ever have.
My balls tighten. I’m seconds away from erupting all over the wall when there’s a tickling sensation on the hand against the wall.
I flash my eyes open and see my worst nightmare. A spider crawling across my hand.
The scream that erupts from me is loud and high-pitched, but I can’t stop myself. I hate spiders. I’ve always hated them.
Staggering backward, I swing my arm around, trying to fling the spider off me. I shove the shower door open and tumble out, looking all over for the spider, still screaming every time I think I feel it on me.
I’m spinning and flailing around the room, my still-hard cock bouncing with each movement.
“Brian?” Hardy’s urgent voice comes from beyond the door before he charges inside, buck naked and cock as hard as mine.
Don’t look at it.
I just looked at it.
Holy fuck, I can’t breathe.
Am I having a heart attack?
“Why are you naked?” I yell.
“I heard you screaming. And I was… about to take a shower. What’s going on? Why areyounaked?” he asks.
“I was in the shower. And there was a spider!” I shriek, jumping backward as it crawls out of the shower.
Hardy stares down at the rapidly moving black horror. “You do realize you’re a two-hundred-sixty pound outside linebacker, right? You could kill it with barely the flick of your fingers.”
“That would mean I’d have to touch it!” I jump back again.
Hardy sighs, grabs a paper cup off the counter, and scoops the spider up. “Sorry, little guy. He looks scary, but he’s really a scared little kitten.”
He takes the spider over to the window and puts it outside, then dutifully closes the window again.
“Are you sure it’s gone?” I ask.
“Positive.”
My chest heaves as I suck in air, and suddenly, my eyes are back on Hardy. His muscular chest and abs. And his hard cock.
This is fine.
