Chapter 1: Steam and Submission
The city outside the bathroom window was a smeared painting of neon and rain, the steady hiss of the downpour mingling with the shower’s spray. Steam coiled in the air, thick with the scent of Marco’s citrus body wash and the darker, muskier undertone of sweat and want.
He stood under the hot torrent, head back, eyes closed, water sluicing down the dense muscles of his chest and stomach. One broad hand was braced against the fogged glass; the other was wrapped around his thick, already-hard cock, moving in a slow, idle stroke. He was thinking about Julian—the sharp cut of his jaw, the intelligent, hungry look in his eyes at the bar earlier—when the shower door rattled open.
A gust of cooler air cut through the steam. Julian stood there, fully dressed, his button-down shirt clinging to his lean frame from the humidity of the apartment. His hazel eyes weren’t cynical now. They were dark, fixed on Marco’s hand, on the proof of his thoughts.
“Get in or get out,” Marco said, his voice a low rumble under the water’s patter. “You’re letting the cold in.”
Julian didn’t move. “Eva’s asleep.”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t…”
“I know what she doesn’t,” Marco said, stopping his strokes. He turned fully, water cascading over his shoulders. “Do you?”
The challenge hung in the steam between them. For a second, Julian looked like he might bolt, the attorney’s caution fighting a lifetime of wanting. Then his shoulders dropped. He shoved the door wider, stepped in, and let it slam shut behind him. The sound was final. He didn’t bother with his clothes. He just stood there, getting drenched, his gaze locked on Marco’s.
Marco grinned, a flash of white in his dark beard. He took a step forward, crowding Julian back against the wet tiles. His hand found Julian’s soaked shirt, fisting it. “You been thinking about this?”
“Yes.” The word was a hiss, torn out of him.
“How long?”
“Years.”
Marco’s grin widened. He leaned in, his beard scraping Julian’s cheek, his mouth at his ear. “You gonna stand there in your fucking work clothes, or you gonna get on your knees and show me how much you want it?”
Julian’s breath hitched. He slid down the tile, water from the showerhead pounding his back, soaking his hair, plastering his shirt to his skin. His hands went to Marco’s hips, fingers digging into the hard muscle there. He looked up, and the vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much. Then he leaned forward and took Marco into his mouth.
He wasn’t tentative. He took the head, swirling his tongue, then sank deeper, his jaw stretching. A harsh groan tore from Marco’s throat. He looked down, watching his cock disappear between Julian’s lips, the sight obscene and perfect. Julian’s eyes were shut tight, his throat working.
“Fuck, yeah,” Marco grunted. He tangled a hand in Julian’s wet hair, not guiding yet, just holding. “Just like that. Christ, you’re hungry for it.”
Julian moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight up Marco’s spine. He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm, taking him deeper each time. His nose pressed into Marco’s coarse pubic hair, the scent of soap and skin overwhelming. He gagged, lightly, and pulled back, gasping, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Marco’s glistening tip.
“You can take it,” Marco said, his voice rough. He applied pressure with the hand in Julian’s hair. “C’mon. All of it. Show me.”
Julian dove back down, taking him to the root. His throat convulsed, but he held, his body shuddering. Marco’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, a shallow thrust. “That’s it, you dirty fucking slut,” he groaned, the filthy praise dripping from his lips. “Take your best friend’s cock. Swallow it.”
He started to fuck Julian’s mouth in earnest then, short, sharp drives, the head of his cock hitting the back of Julian’s throat. The sounds were wet, ragged—Julian’s choked gags, the slap of Marco’s thighs against his shoulders, the relentless spray of water. Julian’s hands scrambled, one bracing on Marco’s thigh, the other flying to his own fly, frantically undoing his pants.
“Look at you,” Marco panted, his abs clenching. “Rubbing your dick through your pants like a teenager while you choke on me. You gonna come?”
Julian nodded desperately, his movements frantic.
“Not yet.” Marco pulled out completely, his cock sliding from Julian’s mouth with a soft pop. Julian gasped, his lips swollen and red, his chin slick. “Switch.”
For a second, Julian just knelt there, water running into his eyes, confusion and need warring on his face. Then understanding dawned. He surged up, turning Marco, pushing him against the same wet tiles. Their positions reversed, Marco went down without a word, his knees hitting the slick floor. He didn’t hesitate. He shoved Julian’s soaked pants and briefs down his hips, freeing his cock. It was long, lean like the rest of him, and beautifully hard.
Marco nuzzled into his groin, breathing him in, then dragged a flat tongue from his balls all the way up the throbbing vein on the underside. Julian cursed, his head thumping back against the tile.
“You taste good,” Marco muttered, before swallowing him down in one smooth, practiced motion.
Julian cried out, a raw, broken sound. His hands flew to Marco’s head, fingers twisting in the thick, dark hair. “Oh, god, Marco… fuck…”
Marco worked him with a focused intensity, hollowing his cheeks, using his tongue, taking him deep. This wasn’t just about getting off. It was a claiming. An answer. Every slurp, every groan, every time Marco’s nose pressed into his skin was a silent reply to all those years of silent wanting. He reached between Julian’s legs, cupping his balls, rolling them in his palm, applying just enough pressure.
“I’m close… I’m so close,” Julian choked out, his hips starting to stutter.
Marco pulled off, his own breath ragged. “Look at me.”
Julian’s eyes, hazy with pleasure, dragged down to meet his.
“You come down my throat,” Marco ordered, his voice utterly dark. “Every fucking drop. You give it to me.”
Then he took Julian back in, deep, and hummed. That was all it took. Julian’s whole body locked, a strangled shout ripped from him, and he pulsed hard down Marco’s throat. Marco swallowed, once, twice, a third time, until Julian was shaking and spent, sliding down the tile to join him on the floor.
They sat there in a heap under the still-pouring water, breathing in ragged unison. The steam was beginning to clear. Julian rested his forehead against Marco’s shoulder, his body still trembling with aftershocks.
After a long moment, Marco tilted his head, his lips brushing Julian’s ear. “Eva’s still asleep.”
Julian let out a shaky, incredulous laugh. “You’re insatiable.”
Marco’s hand, broad and calloused, slid up Julian’s thigh. “You got a problem with that?”
Outside, the rain picked up, hammering the window. Inside the shower, the water began to run cold. Neither of them moved.