But tonight I take my time with Laurie. As my dick slides steadily in and out of his hole, I avidly watch his face, which is screwed into lines of pleasure. I love the way he lets himself go completely. He doesn’t seem to care about the way he might appear, nor does he seem deliberate or conscious in his actions. He’s focused solely on our pleasure, reaching back to touch me, putting his hand over mine where I grip his leg, twisting so I can kiss him and groaning into my mouth.

It’s intensely erotic lying in this dim room listening to the sounds of grunts, moans, and flesh slapping, and watching those light eyes go cloudy and unfocused. I pump my hips fiercely, watching myself slam into him and seeing his buttocks bounce.

My climax barrels down on me, but I have just enough presence of mind to fist his dick and give him two hard pulls. He cries out and shoots come over the sheets before I groan, coming hard and pushing into him as if I’m trying to meld our flesh together.

We lie gasping for a few seconds before I pull out of him, soothing him with a kiss as he makes a sound of distress. “I’ll get a cloth,” I say hoarsely. “Stay there.”

I make my way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—a stranger with a dazed expression on his face. Shaking my head, I grab a hand towel and wet it when the water is running nice and warm.

When I get back, Laurie is lying on his back. The sheets are rumpled and half pulled over one leg, but the slim length of him is bare to me, the evening light gilding his skin and highlighting the dark line of hair that trails from his belly button to bush out around his cock. Even his feet are elegant and high arched. I run my finger along the bottom of his sole as I pass, and he jerks.

“Wanker,” he says.

Laughing, I slide into the bed next to him and pass the cloth over his stomach, cleaning the come away. He watches me solemnly, his eyes hidden in shadow, but obediently opens his legs when I urge him, letting me clean between his legs.

“You’d make a lovely nurse,” he says.

I laugh again. “I would be the worst nurse in existence.”

He hums, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re probably right. Nurse Ratched would send you fan mail.”

I throw the cloth down on the floor and draw him to me. “You’re too thin,” I say. “When did you last eat?” He pauses to think, and I grunt in disapproval. “Ack, if you have to think about it, it’s too long. I’ll order room service.”

He twines his legs with mine. “Sounds lovely. Can I have steak? Is that too much?”