Waking up on Monday mornings wasn’t high on Jeremiah Madigan’s list of favorite things. It didn’t even come close. The fact his mornings didn’t usually start until nine o’clock in the p.m. notwithstanding, his routine on a workday no matter what hours he worked was always the same. A long, hot shower, a whole lot of hot coffee and then the drive to work.
Working the graveyard shift, or eleven to seven, was a habit Jeremiah fell into a few years back. He’d been hit with a bad case of insomnia after an even worse break up, and one thing led to another. Something about the shift appealed to him, and he never looked back.
So, while Monday mornings weren’t on his list of favorite things, long, hot showers were, and sometimes, like today, they made it to the top of his list of all-time favorites. This brief thought managed to cross his mind before Jeremiah turned his face up to the falling spray, eyes closed as he just let the water cascade from the showerhead down onto his heated skin. His mouth was open, lips parted as he panted slightly.
The temperature of the water was hot, steam and mist rising about him, but not as hot as the lips that carefully followed the water’s trail as it rolled down the muscles of his back to the crack of his ass.
One hand stretched against the wet tile of the wall in front of Jeremiah to keep his balance, the other wrapped tightly around the swelling length of his cock, not moving just yet, just enjoying the firm pulse and throb. Christ, but it had been so long.
He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, Jeremiah could only groan as strong fingers held his hips in a tight grip and lips – those lips and a hot, greedy tongue burrowed between his clenched cheeks and found his center amidst a chorus of eager slurps and moans.
Heaven.
Goddamn but this was the closet thing to heaven he’d ever found. He didn’t think he spoke aloud, and yet he could hear the soft chuckle, low and lean, almost as if it was in response to his thoughts, and then demanding thumbs spread him wider and that hot tongue lapped at the water that trickled over his small, puckered circle of nerves. Jeremiah groaned again.
Against his will his hand tightened over his cock, moving down to the base and then stroking upwards just below the plump head. His legs instinctively spread as he could do nothing but offer himself up to the feeling, and Jeremiah struggled to keep his balance and his control. But no matter how much he wanted to drag this out he wasn’t going to last.
The thrust of his hips pushed him forward against the welcoming tunnel of his hand before Jeremiah pushed back against the knowledgeable tongue that was carefully driving him mad. His panting increased, harsh and urgent in contrast to the gentle sound of the water and he groaned yet again. This time the sound was deeper and more needy as a long finger stabbed into him alongside the agile tongue.
“Yeah, oh yeah.” Jeremiah managed to suck in a gasping breath, his forehead falling forward against his hand and the tile wall that was the only thing holding him and his trembling legs upright as another finger joined the first. Good. Man, that felt good.
The fingers inside him turned slightly, curling in their search, and Jeremiah increased the speed of his fist on his cock as the sensations spread through him faster than a desert wildfire. His essence flowed freely from the reddened tip as he worked his hand up and down in rough, urgent strokes, but the lubrication wasn’t necessary in the steamy, sudsy shower spray.
“Please.” Jeremiah whimpered in dismay as the fingers suddenly left his body and he was left empty and wanting. But the warm chest pressed against his back and the hot tongue was now lapping at his ear, biting at the sensitive flesh. His legs spread further apart, ass arching upward, feeling the pulse of the fat cock that snuggled happily between his cheeks and roughly jabbed against his loosened hole.
“Ready for it?” The voice was lower, rougher now, and shivers ran up and down Jeremiah’s spine at the words feathering his ear. “Ready for me?”
The sound of the voice, the words themselves proved too much for Jeremiah, and even before the entrance to his body was claimed his hips jerked as he shot his load onto the wall of the shower before falling forward and feeling the cold tile against his flushed cheeks.
Well, fuck. Jeremiah leaned heavily against the tile wall and struggled to catch his breath before he stood up slowly and turned to let the water rinse the evidence of his morning fantasy down the drain. He wiped his face as he let reality sweep back over him.
It had been too damn long since he’d done that for real, and somehow that knowledge proved that some Mondays were a bigger bitch than others.
