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"Tell me you want me to fuck you," Angus murmured.
Steam rose around them, enveloping them in their private haven. The music continued to swell, the sound muffled by the rush of water and their combined groans. The musk of sex and soap scented the air, heavy as the feelings churning inside of Angus.
"I want you to fuck me," Xander replied. He reached back and pressed the lube and string of condoms into Angus's hand.
Xander nibbled on Angus's bottom lip and gently pushed against his chest. "Tell me what you want me to do."
Angus wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, then bit off a foil packet from the line of condoms Xander had handed him. Xander kissed and nuzzled his way along Angus's neck and stroked Angus's testicles, fondling him as though Angus needed more encouragement. He'd wanted Xander from the first moment he'd seen him on the screen.
"Turn around," Angus instructed, enjoying his control over his partner. "And open the shower door."
Xander snapped his gaze to Angus, his mouth swollen, a bead of water clinging to his lower lip. He'd never appeared so masculine and sexual, so open and willing. This had been the expression the director had called for in one of his earliest films, the look of curiosity and obedience in his role as a slave. Now he'd nailed playing the real part of a slave--Angus's slave for the moment, a willing partner to do whatever he was told.
"I want to watch us in the mirror," Angus replied, his voice low and hoarse. Xander hesitated a moment longer than Angus wanted, which earned him a rough push to the shoulder. "I want to see the expression on your face whenI'm inside of you."
Xander's lips parted and slowly curved into a grin. He nodded and turned away, his feet shoulders' width apart. He pushed open the shower door, then grasped the edges and stood before the mirror, his long, lean body covered only in water.