Chapter 11

“Wait another thirty years if it meant I finally got you,” he’d say, because Jett was a hell of a lot more eloquent in his fantasies than he ever could be in real life.

Shuddering, he closed his eyes and slid his other hand between his thighs. His mouth watered for the fantasy, but the reality was a stroke along the skin behind his balls, a probe at his clenching hole. He pulled at his cock, keeping the pace languid, slick and tight as he imagined it would be if he ever got the chance to bury himself deep inside Trev’s body.

Would he be a screamer? He imagined Trev as vocal, not holding back anything he felt, liberated where Jett was still shackled by fears.

“You can do it.” Trev would say.

And that was it. That was all it took. Jett’s balls tightened, his orgasm coming from nowhere, and he groaned as he shot all over the tiled wall.