A DISCOVERY

A DISCOVERY
Adam's Pov

You know what? Later. I'll deal with that later.

For now, I just want to focus on how Emerson is sucking me in, like he wants to merge us together. He’s warm and responsive and he just feels so fucking good I could be here all day.

“Fuck!” The word slips out of me with almost a sort of reverence and Emerson answers with a moan.

I'm close, very close and I need him to come too. My hand wraps around his cock, and Emerson whimpers, a crack in his voice. “Cum, baby. Cum for me again.”

He shakes his head slowly, mumbling incoherent words, as I tighten my hold on his cock, stroking slowly.

Soon my strokes become less coordinated. Electricity dances up my spine, and my eyes close as I fist Emerson. He quivers in my hands and I'm sure I'm shaking too.

It doesn't take much longer.

My orgasm washes over me like a harsh wave crashing against rocky shores and my mouth falls open in a silent shout. I fight to stay upright as I fill him up with my cum, my vision awash with colour.

Em’s back arches even more, and his hole refuses to let me go, drawing out my orgasm as he comes again.

We stay like that for a while, with me leaning above him, amidst harsh breathing. When I pull out Emerson slides down onto his stomach, hands splayed apart.

I stand up on shaky legs, stepping out of my pants but pulling on my underwear even though my cock is still coated in cum. The picture he presents makes me pause for a while as I stare down at him sprawled out on the floor.

I can see prints of my hands beginning to form on his ass, random handprints scattered all over. Sweat lines his back, twinkling as my cum leaks out of him. His eyes are closed, and his breathing heavy. Mine is too; it's as if I'm coming down from a high.

I walk over to the bathroom and rewet the rag which has now been delegated to this purpose. Emerson is still on the ground when I get back, and he's grinning at me like a shark who just had a whole human for lunch.

I lean down, in front of him. “Hey there.”

“Hey,” he draws with a laugh.

“Are you good?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the p, still giggling.

“I'm going to wipe you down okay, clean you up a bit.”

“Okay.”

It seems Emerson gets very smiley after sex, which in turn is making me smiley too. I gently wipe him, careful around the areas of him which are red, which are a lot so much so I'm prompted to ask if he's okay again.

“Yes,” he draws out, popping up into his elbows to peck my lips.

I can't help but lean down to kiss him again. “Will you take a bath?” I mumble against his lips.

“Later,” he says, touching his nose to mine, “help me up, so we can lay down and cuddle.”

I nod. That sounds like a brilliant idea.

_

We lay down, hands softly tracing lines in each other until both our stomachs rumble in unison. “Let me go take a bath, then we'll figure out what to eat,” he says laughing.

I nod, and let him get up, watching his ass as he walks to the bathroom. I'm immediately reminded of being inside him.

I pull up my phone to order something to surprise Emerson.

The pictures from my photoshoot came back today, when I was spiraling from my performance, and with it came my pay. It's not much but it could be the beginning of something.

Emerson is in the shower and I'm humming as I lick up stiff from the floor. There's not much, just basically the clothes we just recently discarded.

I pick up my clothes, fold them and set them down on the bed. Emerson’s shirt is next, the jersey going on top of mine. His jeans follow and I have to shake them out to get them straight and flat enough to fold.

Something falls out of one of the pockets.

I lean down to get it, to place it on his bedside table. At first I think it's a folded piece of paper, but as I touch it, I notice it's not.

My fingers close around the small package, and sinks into it. It's a powder of some kind and immediately my mind wanders.

But it couldn't be. Emerson is so against drugs, that it simply couldn't be. Maybe he'd have some if offered to him at a party but he wouldn't just have some on him.

But what else could it be?

I turn the packet around in my arms, hoping for some sort of clue to suggest otherwise as a sort of anger begins to rise up in my chest.

Is Emerson really actively doing recreational drugs and chastising me for using it for good?

A bit of the white powder escapes into my palm and I stare at it for a long time.

At this point, I'm confident that it is. But to be sure, just to be sure, I bring it up to my nose and sniff.

Fuck!

It's strong, stronger than what Mark offers sometimes to take the edge off the anxiety but it does confirm something that is getting me increasingly angrier and angrier.

Emerson is a fucking hypocrite.

And as I roll over everything in my head the only reason I can think of why he'd be like this is that he doesn't want to see me succeed.

He's a selfish bastard. Because if I do, I'll leave and take away the object of his feelings. That's why he keeps insisting. The more I'm handicapped, the more I'll be here for him to do as he pleases with me.

The shower stops running and I turn towards the door as it opens.