Grinning devilishly, Gabe swings his leg over Ellis’ thighs, straddling him. “Hi.”
Ellis' throat bobs, the action really erotic for some reason. “Hey.” He doesn’t seem to know where to look first, his eyes jumping all over Gabe, his pupils dilated. Then his gaze drops to Gabe’s shorts, tented at the front, and his lips part on a shocked inhale.
A quick glance downward tells Gabe he’s not the only one with a situation. The realization brings an unexpected relief. Untilnow, he couldn’t be sure how Ellis would react to the idea of being with a man.
As enticing as it is, Gabe doesn’t let his gaze linger. Instead, he drags it up Ellis’ stomach and chest until it lands on his flushed face.
“How’s the view?” he asks cheekily.
Ellis gives a laugh that sounds like it’s punched out of him. “I could stay here all day.”
“Yeah? Even if the sofa barely fits half of you?” Ellis’ legs are practically hanging off the arm rest.
“Even then.” His hands settle on Gabe’s hips, light and cautious. “Can I…”
“Whatever you want.”
Ellis huffs. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Would you like to find out?”
A nod, shy and almost imperceptible, but it’s more than enough. Gabe covers Ellis’ hands with his, and slowly drags them both up until they slip under his shirt.
“Take off my shirt.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, having noticed that Ellis responds better to direct ‘orders’. It makes sense, given how often he’s forced, and expected, to make all the decisions.
It works. There’s barely any hesitation before Gabe is raising his arms and Ellis is tugging the shirt over his head, holding it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
Chuckling, Gabe takes it and dumps it on the floor without care. And then he waits, letting Ellis look his fill.
Gabe’s never been body-shy—something he’s really grateful for right now, because Ellis studies him like one would a work of art. It’s an insane ego-boost, and Gabe’s dick must agree, growing impossibly harder under the attention. An untapped voyeurism kink, maybe?
His abdominal muscles contract when Ellis touches them, the contact unexpected and a little cold against his skin.
“Sorry,” Ellis mumbles, about to retract his hand.
Gabe catches it, holding it in place. “No. Touch me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere.”
Ellis guffaws. “Thank god you’re not demanding.” And then he’s touching Gabe.
Everywhere.
He drags his palms up and down Gabe’s sides, making him giggle. Amused by the reaction, he moves them higher and inwards, his touch featherlight as it skims over Gabe’s chest, grazing his nipples. Gabe’s not very sensitive there, but that doesn’t mean Ellis’ touch isn’t pleasant. A shudder goes through him when Ellis traces his collar-bones, so close to his neck where heissensitive. Ellis doesn’t continue that road, though, instead stroking Gabe’s shoulders and sliding down his arms.
“Do you work out? You look like you work out.” His fingertips skim over the swell of Gabe’s biceps.
“Thanks,” Gabe says with a chuckle. “My arms are ripped from all the pastry making. I used to go to the gym, but it became too expensive. Now I just stick to some bodyweight training. There’s a yoga class every Sunday at the beach too. I go when Imanage to get myself out of bed early.” An image of Ellis in a downward dog pose jumps into his mind.Oh yes, please.“You should come with me sometime.”
“Yeah, not sure about that. I don’t really fancy being ass up in front of a bunch of strangers,” Ellis says, like he just had the same thought.
More images. So many images. Ah, hell.
“Hmm. What about if it was just the two of us? A private yoga session.”
Ellis’ hands still on Gabe’s thighs. His lips part, a look of contemplation on his face.
