Curious (The Finn Factor 1)

“Men?” Jeremy tried to joke but he was having a hard time breathing.

Owen shook his head patiently. “Responsible. Controlled. Repressed.”

“Hello? I’m an openly, actively bisexual artist. I’m covered in tattoos, in touch with my inner child and the life of every damn party. I’m hardly repressed. I’m the poster boy for freedom of expression.”

“A poster boy with an impressive stick up your ass and a castle moat around your emotions. I think tonight is the first time I’ve seen you really let go. From where I’m standing, you’re all bottled up and ready to pop. Giving up control could be just what you need.”

“No way.” Jeremy’s voice was higher than he wanted it to be. Excited. “You may be curious but I’m not. Not about your kind of play, Finn. I’m pretty sure a guy hits me? I’ll hit him right back.”

“You might surprise yourself. Why don’t you look back in the mirror and concentrate for me?”

He waited in silence until Jeremy forced himself to do as he asked.

When he started talking again, Jeremy could hear the approval in his voice. “Good. We can get into that later. Right now I want to know what it’s like to kiss you without that beard. To bite your chin. I want to touch your smooth face, those tattoos on your back, and the ones on your thighs and ass that you got in New Zealand last year. Who did you say did them?”

Jeremy steadied his hand as he trimmed the beard as close as he could get it, trying to focus on the question. “One of my Maori friends from the convention took me to his cousin. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It was,” Owen assured him. “I mean you told me you had some new ink, but I had no idea. You look like a different person without your clothes on. That workout room has really paid off too. You’re big. Everywhere. Primitive, powerful and intimidating as fuck. I can see you chasing someone down and pinning them to the ground, pulling their hair while you fuck them. I thought about it as soon as you bent me over the couch. There’s a kink for that you know—it’s not one I’ve explored, but I could get interested in it now.”

Who was this sexual stranger who’d taken over his best friend’s body? The things he was saying… Jeremy knew without looking that Owen was still touching himself. “Do you want me to cut myself and bleed out? Is that your goal here?”

“Am I distracting you?” Owen laughed.

“Just stop talking.” He turned on the razor and focused on shaving. The remnants of his black and gray beard disappeared and Jeremy felt as if he were going back in time.

He had a sudden flashback of all the nights he’d spent over at Owen’s house when his aunt was on a bender. Those times he’d lain in his sleeping bag on the floor next to his friend’s bed, waiting for him to fall asleep. By the time he turned seventeen he hadn’t been able to resist thinking about Owen and what they could be like together. He’d held his breath and bitten his cheek hard as he could to silence his sounds of pleasure as he stroked himself to climax in the dark room.

Maybe he was still dreaming, because the Owen from his fantasies was here, ready to let Jeremy do whatever he wanted to his body. It was too good to be true. Impossible to believe. Another shoe was bound to fall and hit him right between the eyes, forcing him to wake up.

He rinsed and wiped off his face when he was done, noticing how odd the cool air felt on his bare cheeks. The man in the mirror was unrecognizable. More vulnerable, despite his size. He turned back toward Owen with his jaw and chin on display. “Satisfied I won’t damage your sensitive skin now?”

Owen’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his knuckles white as he gripped the base of his shaft. “I forgot you had dimples. You look like a new man.”

Jeremy stalked his way back to the shower, digging his fingers into Owen’s arms and walking him backward until his back was flush with the tile. “Let’s test the new me out.”

He kissed him so there could be no mistaking his intent, and they both moaned as their bodies rubbed against each other. Owen’s fingers brushed Jeremy’s erection and then he wrapped both hands around it, rubbing it against his own.

Jeremy swore and ground his hips against him, loving the slide of their wet skin. He bit Owen’s lower lip and he felt him shiver. The man who loved to dominate wanted to be pinned down and fucked. Wanted to be bitten.

He did it again.

Owen turned his head, breaking the kiss. “Suck me off again,” he demanded roughly. “I want to know if it feels as good without the beard.”