The Coin in the Fountain

I woke to the faint sound of water lapping against the dock outside, the early light pushing through the thin curtains. The bed was warm, and Marco was behind me, one arm draped over my side, his chest pressed to my back.

His breath moved against my neck, slow and steady, but the hand on my stomach wasn’t still. His fingers traced a lazy path downward, stopping just above the base of my cock before curling around me. The heat of his grip pulled a low sound from my throat.

I shifted back into him, and there was no mistaking the hard press against me.