Chapter eleven: Marcus
With every soft click of the shutter, Jonathan’s tension built.
He stood still, but his body betrayed him. The tight white fabric of the boxers could no longer hide the growing pressure underneath — a slow, inevitable swelling that made the pose feel more and more precarious. The heat in the room clung to his skin, amplified by the sheen of oil and the intimacy of Marcus’s gaze. Each glance from behind the lens felt like a touch.
Jonathan tried to adjust his stance subtly, as though he could shift away from the discomfort of his own desire. But there was no denying it now: he was hard. Thick and full, his arousal stretched the cotton, every pulse of blood through his body making it more obvious.
Marcus lowered the camera for a moment. His eyes met Jonathan’s.
“It’s alright,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “Don’t fight it.”
Jonathan flushed, the words somehow more intimate than a hand on skin. Still, he didn’t move. Embarrassment warred with an unfamiliar thrill — not just at being seen, but at being accepted like this, without judgement.
“The tension in you,” Marcus added, stepping a little closer, “it’s part of the image. That electricity — you feel it too, don’t you?”
Jonathan nodded once, unable to speak.
The air between them shifted, heavier now, as if charged with something unspoken. And then Jonathan’s eyes dropped, just for a second — catching the shape growing beneath the front of Marcus’s trousers. The curve was unmistakable.
A bolt of shock — and something else — surged through him.
Marcus stepped back to the small table where he’d left the oil. He didn’t say anything at first, just poured a little more into his hands, then returned to Jonathan, slower this time. His hands hovered just above the waistband.
“If you’re willing,” he said quietly, “we can go further. Lose the boxers. Let’s capture what’s real.”
Jonathan’s breath caught. Every muscle in his body tensed, straining between fear and longing. He could still say no. He could grab his clothes and leave.
But he didn’t.
His fingers slipped beneath the waistband, slowly pushing the cotton down over his hips.
Marcus didn’t look away.
Jonathan’s cock, thick and flushed with heat, responded instantly as Marcus’s warm hands began to glide over his skin, spreading the oil in slow, deliberate strokes. The oil caught the light, making his skin gleam, highlighting the smooth curve of his shaft and the taut swell of his head, already heavy and glistening.
Each touch sent waves of pleasure pulsing through him — a delicious mix of tension and release building beneath his ribs. Marcus’s hands moved with practiced confidence, kneading and coaxing, his fingers tracing the veins that pulsed beneath the surface. Jonathan’s breath hitched, heart pounding as the warm slickness of the oil amplified every nerve ending.
The air seemed to thicken around him, charged with quiet electricity. His cock thr0bbed, growing harder and heavier, pulsing insistently with each gentle caress. The sensation was almost unbearable, a delicious fire lighting up his body from the base of his spine to the tips of his toes.
As Marcus’s touch deepened, Jonathan felt himself teetering on the edge, a thrilling tension building tighter and tighter. The world narrowed to the heat between his legs, the slick glide of oil, and the steady, grounding presence of Marcus’s hands.
Jonathan’s breath came faster, shallow gasps escaping as Marcus’s hands moved with steady rhythm, each stroke of warm oil sending sparks through his body. His cock thr0bbed insistently, thick and swollen, the tip flushed a deep pink, glistening with moisture. Every vein stood out beneath the slick skin, pulsing with the rush of blood that seemed to flood his entire lower body.
The sensation was exquisite — a delicious tension coiling tighter with each glide of Marcus’s fingers, the silky oil magnifying every touch, every stroke. Jonathan’s hips twitched involuntarily, seeking the friction, craving more, but he stayed rooted, caught between embarrassment and a raw hunger that surprised him.
Marcus’s palms cupped the base of his cock firmly, kneading the heavy weight as if to steady it — but the pressure only made Jonathan’s arousal flare brighter, hotter, impossible to contain. His balls drew up tight beneath the slickness, sensitive to every caress, every teasing flick of Marcus’s thumb.
Heat bloomed deep inside him, spreading through his veins like wildfire, each wave more intense than the last. Jonathan’s hands curled into fists, nails digging into the smooth surface of the backdrop behind him as the mounting pleasure threatened to consume him whole.
With slow, deliberate care, Marcus’s touch coaxed Jonathan toward the edge — the building tension stretching taut, a sharp exquisite ache spiraling outward from his core.
Jonathan’s chest heaved, breath ragged and uneven, as he teetered on the brink of release — every nerve alive, every fiber trembling with anticipation and desire.
His orgasm swept through him, the pent up energy releasing itself as thick roaps of cum sprang from his cockhead, his legs quivering he almost collapsed against Marcus.
Marcus gently squeezed the last of his seed from him.
"Good" said Marcus,"Now we can proceed". |
