The buzz of my secret orgasm faded, and the last remaining dribbles of my sticky cum globbed up against the clumps of black pubic hair, mine and his, clinging stubbornly to the metal ring of the drain. I poked at the mess with my big toe until the lazy spiral of the water took it down into the pipes below, and then it was done. I sighed and relaxed my muscles, my mind...sinking into the misty embrace of the shower stall...and, for a fading moment, I let myself enjoy the heat for what it was. After being frozen and scared for what seemed like hours, this was...nice.
I was only was dimly aware of the silence that settled around the hiss of the shower, telling some muffled part of my brain the music from the living room had stopped...and then the door opened, and the baby blue walls of the shower became a shade more pale, more sickly, as the air of the outside world rushed in. I straightened up, tense all over. The soothing, womb-like heat immediately became nothing more than another layer of physical sensory input, and I was back in the real world again. His giant body was stalking toward me through the frosted glass, blurred beyond all detail. He was naked. I could make out his pale skin, the stark V of black hair that blazed down the length of his torso, the thickness of it all...
Focus.
The Chief sniffed deeply, and I watched his upper half expand like an oil stain. "Smells just fine in here, boy. Glad you lit that match. Gotta keep my appetite healthy..."
I said nothing, opening my ass and washing the last of the soapy water from it, hoping I'd be perfect before he got in. My cock was still hard, skin crawling with dreadful anticipation...but I was already separating my mind into two distinct parts, as I'd done in the mirror -- myself, and the reflection. The reflection would take whatever it was given, whatever he gave it -- and it would enjoy itself, just as he wanted it to. True enjoyment was something that couldn't be faked, not in this situation. Not with him. The other part, though...the other part of me would wait, and see.
He strode up to the glass, his form slowly coming into semi-focus. The door slid open, and the full fleshy glory of his body was revealed. It was the first time we'd stood naked in front of each other, eye to eye. I wasn't on my back, or blindly manhandled, or crushed beneath him. His giant dick was a massive spear of an erection, pointed straight at my own crotch from its unkempt bed of dark pubic hair, the wide, half-sheathed mushroom head bright and purple and ready. My reflection zeroed in on this - reacting only to physical stimulus, or the promise of it - and I let myself lick my lips absently, as if it were just another reflex.
The other part of my mind -- the hidden center, the truth of me -- noted his eyes narrowing as I did so, along with his widening smile, and the expectant twitch of his stiff manhood. This part of me was calculating, quiet and cold. Thinking in the long term. It was looking for an opening, a fatal flaw in the cop's thick, clumsy armor, the armor he so obviously believed to be impenetrable...which was exactly what made it so weak. This thought kept me sober, keenly aware of the very simple, terrible thing this lusty, frightening, druglike man wanted from me...what he thought I'd finally become.
He smirked as I stood glistening under the searing torrent that pummeled my neck and shoulders and everything else. I wasn't looking him in the eye. I kept one hand clasped against my elbow, protecting my belly. My other hand rested open against my thigh below, as if I didn't know what to do with it. My hard dick swelled and twitched when he slammed the door shut, trapping us in the massive shower stall together. We stood a moment longer as the steam of the deluge warmed his naked flesh, reddened his skin to match mine. He was still staring me down...
"I..." I cleared my throat, timid to the core.
"What is it?"
I let myself blush, channeling a bashful breed of cowed embarrassment, and it seemed to smooth his hard edges with each tentative glance I stole in his direction - never looking him straight in the eye. That was important...
"I guess I just wanted to, uh...apologize." I gulped, felt my Adam's apple dip and rise as his eyes followed it along the slope of my throat.
He crossed his great arms, beefy biceps bulging against his knuckles. He simply nodded, waiting...but I knew he was a bit more excited now, nostrils flaring with giddy interest beneath his stony veneer.
I was tapping the wet tile with my toes, nervously wringing my hands against my hip, letting my voice tremble just so. "You were right about me. In...in the kitchen. What you said. I was freaking out, I guess. A-acting like a pussy. I was scared of how much...you know." I shrugged, frowning at nothing, pretending the words were painful to say. My eyes were darting between his hairy feet and the water rushing in the grooves between the tiles, as if I were fighting off an anxiety attack. It was only partly for show.
"How much you like it," he finished for me. His voice was steady. Calm.
"Yeah..." I focused on the pure, black well of the drain. "I know I'm not used to being, uh...being on this end of things..." I shrugged again...but it was flimsier now, accepting my own words and everything they meant. "But...I just need to man up, right? We made a deal, and I agreed to this...all of it. Whatever you want. Fair's fair."
I took a deep breath, let it shiver against the walls of my lungs...then I set my drooping shoulders, straightened my spine a bit, and finally met his eyes with my own...but I kept my head slightly bowed, just submissive enough. He was smiling broadly...warmly. "It won't happen again," I told him, with finality. I'd removed the tremble from my voice, as if this were the only thing I was sure of in the entire world.
"That's real good to hear, Mikey." His strong arms were still crossed over his massive chest, curved dick still hard between his widely planted legs...but his black eyes were soft and easy now, as if he were looking at something far more precious than a fuck toy...as if he were looking at me, as I was, and wanting it. The same way he'd looked at me the night before, when I was standing on the porch with my hands in my pockets, waiting for him to invite me inside. I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing the pained grimace into something like a hesitant smile, or a swallowed sob, and let my eyes water just a little as he stared into them. The billowing steam rose like a smokehouse fog, cleansing and pure, transforming the tension between us. "That's not an easy thing for boys like you to admit..." He cocked his eyebrow at me, and grinned in a way that almost made me swoon...almost made me feel special. "But I already knew you weren't like other boys."
I blinked - no, fluttered my eyelashes - and looked away from him again, grinding my teeth against my tongue. "I..."
"It's okay," he told me, massaging me with his words. "Keep going." He could tell I was still nervous, that I had more to say...and he actually wanted me to continue. His entire body had relaxed...now leaning against the frosted glass at his back, receptive and open, and his face was handsome and warm. The hidden part of me knew this was a very good sign - that I had actually managed to deceive him - just as it knew things were far more dangerous now because of it. I had crossed a line, corrupted his comfortable world with invisible tendrils of treachery. If he happened to notice them...
Focus.
