before we get down to business.”
Sebastian and I started to remove our clothing.
“I trust that you followed my instructions, but it never hurts to make sure you didn't miss anything. Tate, did you do your enema?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Sebastian?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Excellent. I want you to get comfortable doing those, as I will request it often. Cleanliness is so important for these sorts of games.”
“Yes, Sir,” we replied.
I tried to keep my eyes off Sebastian as he removed his clothes, but it was difficult. I glanced at James. He watched us with an impenetrable expression as his eyes roamed over us.
When we'd finished and had placed our folded clothes neatly on top of the hamper as instructed, he spoke again.
“In the shower, please. I want you to clean each other and I want it to be thorough. That means behind the ears and in the crack. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” we said. We stepped into the shower. It was only after I'd turned on my showerhead and turned around that I got a good look at Sebastian. If we were in a cartoon there'd be bombs going off in the balloon over my head. Jesus fucking Christ. If he wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I mean, ever.
He was facing the other way and had tilted his head forward under the water to let it soak his hair. The warm rivulets ran over his defined muscles and smooth skin, down his long legs and into the drain at his beautiful naked feet.
I glanced at James. He sat there, watching us intently with a little hint of a smile on his face. I turned back to Sebastian, picking up the body wash.
“You can talk to each other,” James said, “but only about the task at hand, please.”
“Turn around,” I said to Sebastian.
Sebastian turned his head and smiled, twisting under the hot water until he stood before me in all his glory. He shook the water out of his eyes. We stared at each other for a long moment, during which we seemed to communicate our mutual pleasure at what was occurring.
“Get on with it,” James said sternly.
I broke from that blue-eyed gaze and poured some body wash into my hand. For the next fifteen minutes I soaped and lathered that beautiful boy from top to bottom, not missing a spot, delighting in his soft smiles and grunts of pleasure from my gentle ministrations. Afterwards, he did the same to me. This reciprocal bathing resulted in some pretty obvious signs of arousal by the time we'd finished. Our dicks looked like a matching set, although I noticed that Sebastian's stood somewhat thicker and longer than my own.
We glanced at James. He had crossed one of his long legs over the other and watched us with a lackadaisical air that belied the bulge we could both see tenting the front of his pants.
“Very good. Now turn off the water.”
We shut off our respective showerheads and stood in the residual steam that filled the stall and the rest of the bathroom, wondering what to do next. James didn't make us wait long.
“Sebastian, do you know what rimming is?”
“Yes, Sir,” Sebastian replied.
Good answer.
“Good boy. Tate checked off being rimmed as one of his favorite activities,” he said, stroking a hand over the bulge in his pants.
My heart rate sped up at the prospect of Sebastian's sweet lips and tongue on me in that sensitive place.
“Tate, I want you to lean forward with your hands on the wall under your shower head. Keep them there, no matter what, understand? They don't have to stay on the same spot but they better damn well stay on the wall, capiche?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, getting into position.
Oh shit oh fuck oh shit.
“Sebastian. I want you to demonstrate your best rimming technique on Tate. Show me what you can do. I want you to try to make that boy come, got it? Try to make him come just from having your tongue on his ass. Or in it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Oh shit oh fuck oh shit. I knew what he was going to say next.
“Tate. You are not allowed to come. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” I
Learning to Kill: Stories