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“I said,” the man started, as he pushed himself up from the bench, “it looks like you could use a hand?” He was walking now. Just four long strides and he was across the small room. Sweat dripped in lines down his stomach, trailing into the curly nest of hair around his cock. The salty smell of sex and sweat hung thick in the air.
Remus wasn’t capable of hiding his staring now. His mouth hung slightly open and he exhaled a shaky breath. He could reach out and touch him. He should, actually.
Before he could sabotage everything by thinking, he curled his fingers around the backs of the man’s thighs, caging himself in. “A hand?” Remus echoed and, with great effort, he pulled his gaze up to meet the man’s eyes. “Just a hand?”
—
Deep down, Remus knew he wasn’t doing this bathhouse thing correctly. Yearning and pining felt pathetic in a place where a little eye contact and bravery were all you needed to get exactly what you wanted.
Still, he yearned and he pined. Maybe he was in another one of his dreams. Many had started just like this. Caught in a wank, manhandled, and fucked senseless. Is that what was about to happen?
Series
- Part 1 of How May I Help You?
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Bookmark Notes:
They meet at a bathhouse
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