Rated M for a reason. R&R much appreciated!
Every day seemed to get longer. Seconds felt like hours, hours felt like weeks. Jean Havoc shrugged on his military-issued jacket, waving goodbye to his superiors as he gave up on work for the night. Once outside, he lit up a cigarette, his nerves shot from having to run around all day. The first drag felt like heaven and seconds later his muscles relaxed a little as the nicotine kicked in. Sweet bliss.
He walked into his one-bedroom apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. Shedding his coat and shirt, he put out the end of his addiction in the metal ashtray on the counter. He undid his pants on the way to the bathroom, chucking them on the floor of his bedroom. He lingered in front of the mirror, clad in nothing but green boxers. He had been working more lately, his abs seemed more toned, and a clear V was cut from his hips, delving beneath the jade cloth. He gave himself an approving grin, turning on the hot water to start up a shower.
Once the boxers were a heap of cloth on the floor, he stepped into the shower, closing the glass door behind him. Hot water rushed over his body, momentarily creating steam as he just came in from the crisp air outside. A sigh passed through his lips as the water relaxed his body more than his cigarettes could at that moment. The stress melted away, clinging to the streams of water that cascaded down into the drain. He leaned his head back, fingers running through short, flaxen hair. This was good. This was more heaven than nicotine.
He washed his hair – which took all of five seconds. He took his time rubbing himself down with the soap and washcloth. He worked out what knots and kinks he could reach, his muscles shivered with approval at finally being given the chance to relax. His hands reached lower, brushing over the sudden erection that decided to show up. Havoc pressed his back up against the wall, exhaling slowly. It has been a while, he mused, wrapping his fingers around to give himself an encouraging stroke. The water suddenly felt more erotic rather than calming, sending soap bubbles from his upper body drifting down lower, bursting over the sensitive skin below his waist. His hand found a steady rhythm as the blood rushed lower, throbbing with need.
It felt so damn good. There was no time in the day anymore, and who knows how fucking long it had been since he felt the touch of a woman. Havoc groan aloud, his lips parted in a gasp as his hips thrust restlessly against his own hand. His imagination ran wild, images of soft pink lips wrapped around his erection, licking and sucking, it almost became too much for him to handle. He slowed his hand; the fire coiling in the pit of his stomach subsided – just barely. The spray from the showerhead thrummed against his chest and stomach, muscles now tense, but not from stress. Oh no. This time, it was pure pleasure.
His russet gaze drifted to the ceiling as his hand resumed the symphony it was creating. His breathing picked up, pants seemed to be echoing off the walls of the miniscule space he was confined in. His fingers slid over the sensitive head of Little Havoc, sending jolts of electricity coursing through his body. Stars of white flashed behind his eyes as a moan spilled from his lips like a prayer. He picked up the pace, feeling his body tighten and the fire raging hotter than before.
In an instant, time had stopped. He was overcome with ecstasy, his body bucking and shuddering as the fire consumed him. Slowly he regained his senses, his legs trembling slightly from the force of his orgasm. Evidence of his efforts was slowly sliding down the wall in front of him, and with some water, just like his stress it was washed down the drain. Minutes later he was dressed in gray sweatpants, lying on his bed, his face in the pillow.
Maybe stressful days aren't so bad.