I licked the edge of his ear, nipping at the crook of his neck, oh-so-care-fu-lly…
Fenton went rigid, muscles clenched in an instant. He began to pivot on his heel;
I wrapped my left arm around his neck. Holding him in a headlock, I pushed him
against the blue tile of the shower wall. I did it again, and he shivered, his wet
naked bottom pressed into my lap. His pale skin was raised in little pinpricks,
goosebumps from the cold; I ran my hand through his soggy pitch-dark hair.
He began to struggle.
"Dash, what the hell are you doing?!"
Running my hands down his hips, grasping his waist, he gave another shudder,
a tremor and little gasp. A little moan? A cloud of warm vapour curled out from him,
visible in the cool air, and dissolved into the soft glow of the old fluorescent lights above.
"I think you mean 'who', Fenton..."
whispered throaty, licking his warm flushed cheeks.