The Hot Tub I – The Cork
It’s a Matter of Trust I
“Brian?”
“Down here,” comes the response and I chuckle. I had already determined that he wasn’t upstairs. I lean over the railing and look down. There he is, in the hot tub, bubbles on full blast, water up to his neck, his arms spread out to the sides, resting on the edge of the tub… champagne bottle and two glasses sitting beside him on the ground.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a grin.
He looks up at me with a definite smirk. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Obviously sitting in a hot tub, not doing a damn thing is what I want to say, but instead, I choose to not answer him. It’s a baited question anyway. Too easy.
His smile gets a little bigger then one arm disappears below the bubbles. He straightens his face to a look of ‘you know you want me’, tilts his head back then his eyelids slowly slide shut. His arm is making definite ‘I’m jacking off’ movements and his back arches up a little.
My eyebrows go up. It’s a deliberate show. He opens one eye to peek at me. Yes, I’m still looking, I say with my smile.
His other eye opens and he sits up, pulling his arm back out of the water and returning it to the side of the tub. His chest heaves with a sigh. I laugh and he shoots me a glare. “As much as I’d like to entertain your voyeuristic tendencies…” He tries to be a smartass, but his glare fades and his face softens as he continues, “I’d much rather you be down here doing, then up there watching.” He looks away, letting me ponder that thought and make up my own mind.
I’m not an idiot so I laugh and head towards the stairs.
“Naked!” he calls out. He knew I’d come. Smartass.
But he has the right idea, so I undress on the way down the stairs. A trail of shoes, shirt and sweats are scattered behind me as they’re dropped where they came off. I get to the bottom of the stairs and next to the tub. “Ah, decided to join me?” He snickers.
Sometimes he just annoys the shit out of me, thinking I’m always just that easy. He’s right, but it’s still annoying. But of course, annoyed or not, the homing device in my dick gives me that ‘Brian within five yards’ warning, so yes, I’m sporting a hard-on already. So damn easy… he doesn’t even have to work for it. Downright fucking annoying.
“And I see you brought a friend.” he states all coy-like looking at the navigational tool between my legs that’s sticking straight out to point at its intended target.
“Shut up, Brian,” I spit out at him. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d smack him too, just to wipe that smirk off his face.
“What, baby? It’s not a friend?” he asks shyly, sweetly.
What the fuck? What’s this ‘baby’ and ‘friend’ shit all of a sudden? I am not his baby and this hard thing bobbing between my legs is a dick. D. I. C. K. Dick. Not a friend. Who are you and what have you done with my Brian? The one that annoys me so much.
“Come here,” he says in a very sexy drawl, motioning with his hand. Well, that’s a familiar enough expression so this must be him. I take a step closer to climb into the tub, feeling confidant and no longer disturbed. I’ve got one foot already in the bubbling hot water when he speaks again. “I want your friend to meet my friend.” And he lifts his hips up out of the water, grabs his ‘friend’ and wags it in the air.
Huh? I pull my foot back out and I wrinkle my nose. “Shut up and stop that,” I tell him. “You’re freaking me out.”
He lets go of his dick and sits back down. He huffs. He looks annoyed. At me!
“Oh right. What happened to ‘let’s make a baby / carry me over the threshold’ Justin?” He’s grumbling and being all pissy now. Okay, so he was getting even.
Relieved that he hadn’t lost his mind completely, I climb back in and make my way over to him.
“Ahh,” I use my pitiful widdle infantine tone that he really hates. “Was you tryin’ to have some fun and I spoiled it for you?”
I cup his cheek in my hand; he pulls back and turns his head away from me. I straddle his lap, putting my knees on the seat, turn his head to face me and kiss his lips. He’s not kissing me back. The bastard. I lean in, poke my friend into his navel and kiss him again. He won’t open his mouth. My tongue is pushing against his lips but he’s not budging.
Then suddenly, before I even know what’s happening, he grabs my hips, spins us around in the water, plants my ass on the seat and now he’s straddling my lap and shoving his tongue deep into my mouth. Of course, I’m easy so he doesn’t have much trouble, I open willingly and he explores my mouth, pressing his body against me and pinning me so I can’t move then he breaks the kiss quickly.
“That’s better,” he says smugly.
Utterly and completely annoys me. The bastard. I glare at him even though I really want him to kiss me again.
He smiles at me then reaches over and grabs the champagne bottle. We’re staring at each as he removes all the foil and untwists the wire bracket. He starts working on the cork, easing it back and forth, trying to dislodge it. He’s got the bottle right between us, the base in one hand, the other over the top wrapped around the cork. The bottle’s tilted just slightly and seems to be aimed right at me… my eyes flutter. It’s a little scary... this is how accidents happen, right? A voice pops into my head, I hear my mom…’be careful, you’re gonna shoot that thing right in someone’s eye’. I squeeze my eyes shut to hide the vision of the bottle taking aim and to get my mom out of my head. I mean, I’m naked and I have a hard-on, my mom is not what I want on my mind right now.
“Hey.”
Oh yeah, Brian’s still here. Right. Hot tub, naked, impending sex, champagne… aimed right at my head.
I open my eyes reluctantly. They’re still fluttering, he’s still working on the cork. I’m tense. He stops, removes his hand. I open them the rest the way and relax. I look up at him with my sexy look; he looks at me kind of funny. Uh oh.
“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“What?” Where the hell did that come from?
“You’re afraid this will pop you in the face.”
“Am not,” I lie.
“Yes, you are. You’re afraid that I might actually let this thing hurt you?”
“I’m not afraid. You’re queening out, Brian.” I roll my eyes at him and let out a ‘pfft’. He’s not queening… I was afraid. And now I feel guilty. Shit.
“Well then, what was this?” and he bats his eyelashes really fast, mocking me, and my damn fluttering eyelids.
“Stop it.” I push his face with my hand.
“I would never hurt you, you know.” He’s serious.
“I know,” I reassure him. “Not on purpose anyway,” I add with a shrug of my shoulders. And I’m thinking this conversation is over. Back to the champagne and the impending sex.
But, noooo. Queen Brian is not satisfied.
“Justin,” he starts, one hand on his hip, the other on the bottle that’s resting on his thigh. “You have to know I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either. You have to trust that I’m smart enough to maintain an aura of safety. You know? No stupid stuff. Like noooo blowjobs while I’m driiivvvviiiing…” he trails off, I’m sure it’s because my face is showing something he doesn’t like.
I quickly inventory my facial muscles; everything feels normal. I’m just looking at him, no expression at all. At least I don’t think so. Shit. I have no idea what he’s seeing.
His eyebrows go up. “God, d’you think that was to protect my car?”
‘Wellllll, yes I did actually,’ I admit to myself. “Nooo,” I tell him and add a ‘duh’ look.
“So, you trust I can open this bottle without taking a chance that the cork’s gonna shoot you in the eye?” He’s really bugged by this. I feel like an ass now. I guess I just never thought… oh, shit.
“I trust you, Brian. I don’t trust the bottle though, or that cork.” I say laughing.
“But I’m in control of the bottle and the cork so you have no worries.” He raises his eyebrows at me and grins.
“Just open the damn bottle.” I push his face with my hand again.
He brings it back between us, just like it was before and starts working on it again. He’s keeping his eyes locked on mine. He wants to make sure I don’t flinch. I’m concentrating so hard on his face and not fluttering my eyes, that I’m actually startled when the cork pops off, right in his hand. It didn’t shoot anywhere. I smile at him; his eyebrows go up and his lips pull into that ‘told you so’ stance. So totally annoying.
The foam starts spewing out of the bottle. He quickly lifts my head by pressing up on my chin and holds the bottle over my mouth. The foam oozes out and fills my mouth quickly and runs down my cheeks. The carbonation takes my breath away. I can feel the bubbles popping in my nose and can hear them inside my head, crackling like Pop-Rocks or Rice Krispies cereal. He keeps pouring but just before I start to choke, he pulls the bottle away, covers my mouth with his and we share the first drink of the champagne together then kiss until we both need air.
We pull away, both of us saying ‘mmm’ at the same time. “See?” he adds. “Trust.”
“I get it, I get it. But do you trust me?” He kisses me instead of answering, but when he pulls away from the kiss he says…
“With my life.”
I grab his face in both hands and plant one on him full force. I pull away with a loud smack, leaving him breathless and his mouth hung open. A very surprised look on his face. I grin at him. Maybe he’s not so annoying.
