Noah snapped his eyes open, glaring at me through a haze of overstimulation.
"Now," I said, my hand moving to the buckle of my belt. "Continue what you were doing."
Noah's jaw dropped. "What?"
"You heard me." I reached down, palming myself through the heavy fabric of my trousers. I was already painfully hard, the visual of him sprawled on that toilet seat doing more for me than any club performance ever could. "Show me, Noah."
"I'm not... you can't be serious," he stammered, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled the Spanish sunset. "Cassian, someone could walk in!"
"You heard me." I reached down, palming the thick bulge straining against my trousers, giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze.
My cock was already rock-hard, throbbing angrily behind the zipper, the sight of him sprawled on that toilet lid, pants around his ankles, thighs spread wide, plug half-out and glistening with lube doing more for me than any high-end strip club ever could.
"Show me, Noah."
