Will’s voice was unexpectedly harsh. “I did.”
Taylor jerked around, water swirling, and Will let him go.
“Is that so?” He couldn’t help the edge that came into his voice. “You always carry one?”
Will shrugged. “I noticed it in my pack last night.”
Taylor absorbed this, trying to remember the last time Will had gone camping and who he’d gone with; he decided he’d be happier not thinking about it.
“Always prepared, huh?”
“Something like that.” Will’s gaze challenged him in some indefinable way.
The idea of Will with someone else settled it for Taylor. Sexual jealousy was the wrong reason to fuck your best friend and closest colleague, but —
He turned his back, pushing against the prod of Will’s erection, instinctively encouraging that stiffening swell, forgetting all about the fact that this was probably a bad idea. Pushing away the thought that this wasn’t even like Will really — and that Will was probably going to regret it — and that was going to hurt worse than not doing it at all. Will’s cock scraped lightly down the crack of Taylor’s ass, probing or maybe just moving with the water.
“Is that what you want?” Will’s breath was cool compared to the steam.
He wanted — well, there wasn’t one single thing he wanted. He’d have liked to bury himself up to his balls in Will’s taut tanned ass, but Will returning the favor would be as good in a different way — maybe even better because Will might like it more like that, might remember it — and want to do it again sometime. Besides, just for one hour, he’d like to feel like he belonged to Will. He already knew Will didn’t belong to him, but to belong to Will — would be good. Even if just for a little while.
“Yeah,” he said huskily. “That’s what I want.”
“I want it too,” Will grated. “I want to fuck you. Hard.”
Taylor dipped his head, swallowed. He’d always pictured Will as a gentle lover, playful — teasing. There was a hint of anger in Will’s tone that he didn’t get, but he nodded his agreement anyway. The idea of Will taking him hard was weirdly exciting.
“Yeah, fuck me,” he whispered. “Hard.”
He jerked in surprise as Will bit his shoulder. It hurt. But then Will kissed the bite mark so sweetly. He shivered. He didn’t want Will kissing him — that was liable to break his heart.
The smart thing would be to pull away, get himself on the other side of this tub, and laugh it off. But Will’s arm was locked around him again — he wasn’t going anywhere easily. Instead he lifted his hips as Will’s free hand arrowed down the hard curve of Taylor’s butt cheek, a friendly sweep of caress that ended with one finger poked right up into Taylor’s pursed little hole.
Surprise.
He couldn’t help his body’s instinctive arch and the little guttural moan of stung pleasure.
“Jesus, Will…you could’ve…” But he was suddenly out of oxygen. The stroking motion of Will’s finger made a funny suction with the water, and set the sphincter muscle fluttering in time to the butterfly beat of Taylor’s heart. “Oh…” He closed his eyes. That wash of hot water and knowing press on spongy tissue. Will had big hands. Hard hands. Thick fingers and callused palms, and he was probing Taylor deeply, his touch possessive, knowing.
Too knowing. And abruptly Taylor wanted to fight that exquisite invasion. He didn’t let anyone do this to him. Not ever. He was always the one in charge, the one who called the shots. He was the predator, not the prey. What the hell was he doing giving in to this?
He tried to pull back a little, but Will held him in place and thrust his finger in and out of Taylor’s hole, delicately and ruthlessly finger fucking him. Taylor groaned, trying to angle his body, telling himself he was pulling away, but helplessly pushing back on Will’s hand.
What was happening to him? Will was making him feel too much, too intensely. He was giving up control — no, admit it, control was being taken from him. That finger shoving even deeper in his body, forcing him to feel and respond. He bit his lip, trying not to cry out, to beg for more.
Will was going to make him come — just like that, and despite the dizzy pleasure, Taylor began to get mad. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He hadn’t surrendered his will for this impersonal manipulation. He wanted Will’s cock inside his body, not his hand. He wanted Will feeling it too, helpless with it, not playing him. He grabbed his dick and began to work himself, needing to control his body’s reaction, to at least control his own orgasm.
“Next time I’m doing you,” he warned roughly. He focused on his own hands, what he was doing to himself, fighting to bring himself back under control.
Will’s other arm let him go; he felt Will twisting, groping outside the pool, and then the tear of foil but it was distant because he just couldn’t seem to think beyond that finger — two fingers now — pushing knowledgably inside his body, stroking and massaging him. Well, he’d said he wanted a massage, hadn’t he? Not quite what he’d pictured. His hands rested weak and heavy on his groin.
“I don’t want —” His breath caught raggedly, and against his best intentions he was shoving back, craving that touch buried in his body.
“Yeah, you do. You’re desperate for it. You don’t fool me,” Will murmured. “If you were a cat you’d be purring.” He wriggled his fingers, and Taylor, still trying to preserve the illusion of self-command, snarled. Will chuckled, but the joke was on Taylor because Will deliberately changed his angle and the pressure, and Taylor’s voice cut off on a sound that was embarrassingly kittenish.
To distract himself he began to pump his cock again, water splashing, forcing himself to action.
“No you don’t.
