"I'll … get ready then."
Henrik turned away, not understanding why he felt so awkward, especially after the last few days. He headed for the bathroom and instinctively shut the door. It was something he always did, not being one of those men who could be brazen about his bathroom habits.
He undressed, carefully folding his clothes and placing them on the large marble countertop, putting his glasses on top. He avoided his reflection in the mirror, unwilling to glimpse his tall, skinny body. He didn't like the way he looked and felt more comfortable with clothes on, especially after John's affectionate comment about his stomach.
Feeling a little trembly, he stepped into the shower, taking a moment to familiarise himself with the controls. When he turned the dial, a deluge of cold water fell on his head and he swore inwardly. The last thing he needed was a cold shower right then.
A little more fiddling and the temperature was pleasantly warm, the deluge reduced to a gentle rainfall. He squeezed out some Molton Brown shampoo and began to wash his hair, wondering if John would appear or decide to leave him to it. Right then, both options were terrifying.
The noise of the water meant he did not hear when John entered the room. The first indication was a lean, muscular arm curling around his waist, and a warm body pressed against his back. Henrik sighed deeply and relaxed.
Yes, this is right. I really do want this.
John moved to face him and pulled him into a close embrace. For a moment they just held each other close, letting the water and leftover bubbles from the shampoo sluice over them.
"You don't suppose Roxanna minds us... doing this?" Henrik asked tentatively.
John looked up at him. "You heard what she said. Not that we need it but she gave us her blessing. Her permission, if you want to look at it like that. It's exactly the same as one of us being with her."
Henrik moved against John's warm body, angled and hard where Roxanna's was curvy and soft. Each were equally as alluring.
"Not quite the same," he murmured, feeling John's firm glute muscles tense and relax against his touch.
"No. Not quite." John's hands were on his waist, sliding down to his hips, his thumbs stroking jutting bone. "Roxanna has an amazing body, and so do you."
"Well, I..." Henrik's denial was stalled by a firm kiss. He watched hungrily as John broke free of his arms and picked up the shampoo.
"Would you do the honours?"
"Of course." Henrik washed John's hair as the man moved his head like a cat in paroxysms of pleasure. When he was done, John's hair was dark and slicked straight back, emphasising his high cheekbones and sultry expression. He smiled at Henrik's frank appreciation and reached for the shower gel.
"Now continue." He squeezed some shower gel onto Henrik's outstretched palm.
Henrik washed him carefully, starting with his shoulders and outstretched arms, then moving down to his chest and round to his back. He studiously avoided any other areas, unsure whether that would be too forward so early in proceedings. He felt like such a novice whilst John oozed self-confidence and experience.
His chest tightened as he watched foamy rivulets of water travel down John's back, pooling just above his buttocks before trickling between them. He swallowed, visually drinking him in when John turned, giving him an equally delicious view. His body was mostly smooth, his genital area devoid of hair. Henrik had a sudden urge to feel the supple heft of John's balls and test their weight. Hell, he wanted to bury his face in them. Possibly even taste them...
No. He wasn't ready for that. He felt a flush rising on his face at the very thought. Quickly he raised his gaze and saw John watching him.
"It's okay to look." That sexy smile was back. He squirted more gel onto Henrik's hands and grasped his wrists, moving his hands over his body. "I'll guide you." His voice caught as Henrik's slippery fingers grazed his small brown nipples. "God, yes, they're really filthy."
"You're just filthy all over," Henrik muttered. He knew how super-sensitive John's nipples were, and it was gratifying to hear his breath hitch and a faint flush raise on his high cheekbones. After a moment, John moved his hands slowly down his chest to his stomach, then further down to his groin.
"Touch me," he whispered. "Feel me." He curved Henrik's hand around his balls and left it there. "See? I don't bite."
Henrik swallowed hard, gently palpating them, wondering at their silky texture and fullness, then moved up to his shaft, now solidly erect. He flexed his fingers and and delicately grasped him. This was something he hadn't really done before. Not skin to skin. It was shocking how hot the member felt, and how hard, pulsing with life. At first he was careful, almost as if giving him a medical examination.
"It won't break," John said, covering Henrik's hand and wrapping his fingers fully around the thick organ. "Touch me the same way you touch yourself. You do touch yourself, don't you, Henrik?"
"Sometimes." Henrik kept his voice steady with an effort. Having John moving against him, his eyes closed, lips parted in silent gasps of pleasure, was unbearably stimulating. He fondled him until his fingers became slick with pre-seminal fluid, then began gliding his hand slowly up and down, the way he did to himself sometimes when he was in bed at night, thinking of scenarios with John and Roxanna and no wretched inhibitions...
John practically purred, his head rolling back against Henrik's shoulder. He turned his face into his neck and gave him a gentle nip, then shivered and stepped back.
"That's it. That's… good." He moved Henrik's hand away.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I was ... just about to lose it, that's all. Now it's your turn." As he spoke, he positioned Henrik by the glass shower wall and kicked his legs apart, placing his hands on the top of the shower enclosure, almost as if he were about to search and arrest him.
That action was enough to make Henrik weak with need. John knew how to make the simplest of actions full of suggestion and promise.
"You look incredible like that." He gave Henrik's backside a light slap. "Hold on."
Henrik felt very vulnerable as John applied more fragrant shower gel and trailed his fingers over his body, pattering against his skin. He gripped the top of the glass enclosure, biting his lip to stop himself moaning as John reached round and with a slippery hand began to gently squeeze him, subtle movements to keep the blood pumping into that engorged part of himself.
When had he become a slave to such a ridiculous organ, he thought wonderingly, as each throb threatened to bring him to his knees. Meanwhile, John's other hand was just as busy, working his fingers into intimate places he hadn't explored since...
Oh gods, Berlin.* The bottle of Laphroaig, the stolen kisses, John pushing him on the bed and telling him he was going to give him something he would never forget.
Then that hot tongue, kissing and licking all the way down his spine, spreading him apart, feasting on him ... Christ, that feeling of just being at the mercy of someone stronger, harder, more capable, whispering like a siren as he explored every intimate part of Henrik's body, making him weep with joy. That feeling of coming home, of everything making sense, of his vision fading to grey as he surrendered every part of himself to a man he had wanted for years...
And then, the loss...
No, no, no, don't think of that. Think of the gain. Think of what you have now. Right now. John, Roxanna, a smorgasbord of pleasure just there for the taking...
He could smell menthol, faint but unmistakable, jolting him out of his memories.
"You didn't think I'd come here without lube, did you?" John's voice teased him.
"How can you...do that?" He stuttered, the practicalities immediately taking him out of his lascivious sub-space.
An indulgent laugh. "I know what you want, but that will have to wait. I do have other ways to fuck you."
"What ... oh!" Henrik's body sagged slightly as he felt two well-lubricated fingers working their way inside him. At the same time, John's other hand wrapped slickly round his shaft. He clung to the shower enclosure, his body weakening against the invasion. Escape was impossible, every movement either impaling him or pushing him hard against John's hand.
"Please," he hissed, though he wasn't sure what he was pleading for. He widened his stance, back arching towards the glass as John slowly and deeply fucked him with his fingers. As he grazed Henrik's prostate, a sound between a gasp and a gargle escaped his lips. It was too much sensation. He gripped the shower enclosure as if he were hanging onto a precipice.
"Oh Christ," He choked out. "John…"
"You want me to stop? You want me to continue? What do you want, Henrik? I'll do anything. You know that. All you have to do is say." His voice was silken, seducing him, making him hungry for something. Anything...
"I don't …" Henrik's body rocked against the glass, his eyes hooded as John commenced his relentless invasion of his body. With his other hand he was equally merciless, slippery fingers against hot, swollen flesh, working in unison. The pad of John's thumb lightly grazed the underside, right where he was most sensitive, making him utter a sound midway between a cry and gulp.
He was too close, and he didn't want it to end just yet. He broke away and turned around, pulling John into his arms, the friction of their slicked-up bodies building as their lips met in a hot, deep kiss. After a moment he buried his fingers in John's hair and forced him to look at him.
"Get on your knees." He used his tight, angry Boardroom voice, the one he knew John would never disobey.
John's vivid blue eyes were luminous, his smile crooked. "Yes, sir."
He allowed himself to be forced down to the floor. Henrik leaned back against the glass, spreading his feet to brace himself as John applied a copious amount of lubricant to his fingers. He slipped the coated hand between his legs, seeing out his entrance, gently pressing against it whilst at the same time licking a sizzling trail around his balls, before taking him in his hot mouth and …
"Gods," Henrik grunted, feeling John's tongue work around his shaft. "Oh…!" His body rocked and he steadied himself against the glass. John knelt before him as if in worship, lavishing attention on his cock. Henrik tugged on John's hair, forcing him to look up at him. His eyes were misted and he smiled slightly before returning to his task, every sensuous lick playing havoc with Henrik's grip on reality.
He grabbed John's hair with both hands, forcing him to take more, and the resulting moan reverberated through him. John's throat relaxed, taking Henrik's cock up to the hilt, his silken tongue fluttering against his skin. The sly movement made Henrik thrust his hips forward. He felt John's fingers digging into his backside, pushing him harder against him, forcing himself to swallow as much as he could take without blacking out.
It was too much. Henrik's body jerked, totally in thrall to John's talented mouth. His moan was animalistic as he came, shooting deep down John's throat. He swallowed instinctively, the reflex actions prolonging Henrik's orgasm until he could no longer stand. He pushed John away and collapsed on the shower floor to his knees, chest heaving as the orgasmic waves subsided, leaving him a sobbing, trembling mess. John was beside him, coughing and gasping for breath. He rolled over onto his back, still hard, his eyes feverish.
Before Henrik could move, John stood up and approached him. When Henrik tried to stand, he pushed him back down.
"Stay there. Look at me." His voice was as cold as Henrik's had been minutes earlier, and hoarse from the punishment his throat had just received. He stood over him, wiping his mouth, his other hand lewdly stroking himself.
Still weak, Henrik knelt on the floor, watching as John leaned against the glass behind him, and continued his rhythmic stroking. Their eyes locked on each other, and within seconds an ecstatic expression came over John's face as he climaxed, sending hot gouts of semen over Henrik's face and hair. Henrik let himself be anointed, his gaze never leaving John's face as the last vestiges of his orgasm placed out. As he licked his lips, tasting warm salt, John shuddered and collapsed to his hands and knees.
"Fuck, that was hot," he breathed. He licked from Henrik's jaw to cheekbone, then kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of his release. "Holy shit!"
They caught their breath, sitting in the shower water as it drained away.
"That was almost as intense as actually fucking you," John said, after a few moments.
Henrik had recovered his composure somewhat. He turned off the shower and gave him a patient look. "Must you keep using that word?"
John laughed softly, resting his head against Henrik's shoulder. "You're an incredibly sweet man. What do you think we've just being doing?"
"I... making love?" No, that didn't seem right either, nor did any other ghastly euphemisms.
John shifted Henrik's legs and sat on them, straddling him. "Here's how it goes, for me anyway. Love-making is wine, a good meal, endless foreplay, peeling clothes away and finally consummating the evening to reenforce the bond we have to Roxanna and each other."
"That sounds reasonable. And ...the other?"
"Fucking? Try saying it. I think you might like it." His smile was teasing.
Henrik wasn't going to give in. "Yes... that."
Another slow kiss, so deep that Henrik felt himself stirring again. John moved on Henrik's lap, seeking out his growing erection.
"That was a taster of what I want to do to you when we have more time alone, because I know you want it. You're desperate for my cock inside you, aren't you, Henrik? Fingers are good. For some it's enough but not for you. I know I'm right because you're hard again barely five minutes after I made you blow the first time."
Henrik didn't reply. He didn't really have to. John knew what he liked, just as Roxanna knew. He gave a little shiver, imagining them in bed that night. All of them, touching, exploring. Roxanna's soft curves and hard, pink nipples in his mouth, John spreading him open and lavishly licking him with that wicked tongue...
"Oh, hello." John shifted, looking down to see Henrik's cock standing proud again. "Something's definitely woken up."
"I was thinking about tonight." Henrik went pink, cursing his hyperactive member.
John was still ogling it. "Well, tempting as it is, I think we've left Rox alone long enough. Time for a cold shower." He reached for the controls again but Henrik stopped him.
"We shouldn't waste water. There's a drought on."
"You're not serious? You have spunk in your hair."
Henrik flinched at the crude word. "Right. I hadn't thought of that."
John flipped the controls, dousing them with warm water again. His smile was supremely smug. "You'll get used to it."
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, they were dressed in swimming trunks and shirts, making their way down to the pool area. John had chosen to wear a sensible blue pair of loose shorts, but Henrik felt rather self-conscious in the snug black trunks Roxanna had bought for him.
"Stop fidgeting," John said, as he tugged on the legs to loosen them yet again. "You look fine. More than fine, actually. Only someone with your height and build would get away with them. You or Daniel Craig, anyway."
"That isn't helping." Henrik glanced down. To him it looked as if he had a hamster smuggled down there. He was glad of the long linen shirt that came just above his pale legs. It would be a relief to get to the pool and read his book.
"Oh fuck," John muttered under his breath. "Looks like Rox has company."
They saw Roxanna on a large round sunbed, which she had presumably chosen so the three of them could lie on it. And sitting next to her was one large Afrikaaner, who had made himself very comfortable.
Henrik assessed the situation and saw an even larger sunbed under a cool marble pavilion, unoccupied. Even better, it was in the shade.
He nudged John and motioned to the pavilion. "Roxanna is more than capable of looking after herself but I believe this is now the time for us to step in."
"I couldn't agree more."
"And if a certain diamond trader were to end up in the pool, that would be a bonus."
"I like your thinking," John replied.
As one, they set a determined pace towards the pool.