When I Saw You

"Balian."

"You already said that."

My face heated up. Damn, it had been a while since a guy made me blush, much less one younger than me. "Right. Sorry." My phone beeped again. "I don't want to be late. Appointments." I let his hand go.

"See ya later."

I sincerely hoped so. Joking about my ideal type with Cort was easy enough to do, but actually acting on it with a guy I found attractive was a little different. I played the smooth photographer, but a hot guy could turn me inside out faster with a simple "Hey, how's it going?" than I was comfortable admitting.

My afternoon interviews went all right, but I was distracted through them. Luckily, they were all fit, attractive, and willing to be photographed. The wrestler's ears, thick and somewhat misshapen, caught my interest.

"Cauliflower ear happens when the cartilage breaks," Sammy said, lightly tapping the swollen bulge on the outside of his ear. "Even with our protective gear, though that helps. Mine isn't as bad as some wrestlers I've competed against; Coach is pretty insistent we wear head gear even while practicing. It's not that bad, right?"

"No." It brought interest to an otherwise rather average, if thickly muscled, young man. That and the curls that peeked through the unbuttoned collar of his polo would provide an interesting contrast to the shiny fabric of the black singlet I was planning on getting him. I had him take a few stances. The light would be more diffused in the gym, since the lights were higher than the office fluorescents in the ceiling but it was enough to give him an idea of how I'd show him. I showed Sammy the shots.

"See, this will be darker than the shots I take for the show, but even with the bright light in here the shadows are subtle. Just enough to create visual contrast." He smiled at me as I traced his ear on the viewfinder.

"Okay, I'm in."

I was happy to get another new subject. I had quite a few different athletes. If I included three different poses from each one, I'd have a good mix for the showing.

When I least expected it, the golden god kept popping up in my head. I kept thinking about how I'd photograph him. Definitely outside in the natural light to show off that tan and white hair. Something about him caught every artistic desire in me to touch, to taste, to possess. Instant lust... though I'd be happy just touching him. My fingers curled around my camera as I sat at Cort's desk waiting; I wished they were touching something softer, smoother.

My eyes drifted shut as I leaned back and I saw him, Paul, again in my mind. The golden sun was shining on his skin. This time I trailed my fingers down his shoulder, tracing the small freckles that speckled the tanned skin. I ran the backs of my fingers down the back of his arms to those big hands. I sent shivers down his spine when I drew small wavy lines on my way back up, and then let my hand wander down that fine back.

He had a deep ridge on either side of his spine, creating a small trough that would be perfect for my tongue. I slowly sank down, relishing the salty sweat of his skin as my goal came within reach.

That ass.

It was perfectly shaped, round and tight enough to bounce a quarter off. The smooth fabric of his shorts hung over the top curves, and then loosened over those dark, muscular thighs. I pulled the waistband down, baring just a hint of the top of his ass—

Knocking at the door brought me out of my reverie. I jerked in my chair, leaning forward and hiding my raging arousal behind the desk. My eyes opened, and my jaw dropped.

Paul was standing in front of me in a Speedo with a small towel over his shoulders as water dripped down his body.

A Speedo.

"Balian? You okay?"

He was in a Speedo. I blinked and struggled to find my voice. Any professionalism I might have been able to muster was gone. "Fine," I croaked.

He raised an eyebrow, using the end of the towel to scrub at his head. "Okay," he said slowly. "Sorry I wasn't here at five. Coach kept us late after practice. You mind waiting while I shower? Or you could come into the locker room and tell me more about this show you're doing."

Thank heavens I was wearing tight silk boxer briefs and loose jeans. I made sure my polo hung down over my crotch as I stood up. No way would I miss out on seeing more of Paul. Christmas in... well, it wasn't July, but damn!

"Lead on." I let out the faintest whimper when Paul turned around. Damn, damn, triple damn. Luckily, he must not have heard me because he didn't turn around. I gathered what was left of my wits, the few I had to begin with, and managed to get out a whole sentence. "So, are you on the swim team?"

"Dive team, actually. I do spend a lot of time in the water. Frisbee is just for fun." He threw his towel down on a bench. I straddled the end, letting my shirt pool on the bench. "We're almost ready for Nationals. Only two of us made it this year, so Coach is pushing us hard."

He stretched and grimaced as he popped his back. "I am ready for the weekend."

"You don't dive on the weekends?"

He shook his head. "Usually I'm in the pool every day, but I'm taking this one off. I need a break and to visit the trainers for a massage. I think I pulled something along my glutes." He rubbed at his ass.

My god. He needed his ass massaged. I'd daydreamed about fondling those smooth curves all day. I licked my bottom lip, about two seconds away from offering, when he hooked his fingers in those insanely small shorts and peeled them off, bending over to push them down his legs.

That time my gasp was loud enough to echo in the locker room. Paul stood up, looking at me. He had a mischievous look on his face. "Like what you see? Want to take this photo?"

He was standing slightly sideways to me; I could see he actually had a tan line from his Speedo. The flesh there was a light, pale white standing out in stark contrast to his deep-bronze tan everywhere else. There was the lightest fuzz all over his ass that became small blond hairs on his legs. He had deep ridges going along his hips, pointing straight toward a nice sized cut cock hanging over smooth balls.

Paul ran his hands over his ass. My fingers twitched, and I clenched the edge of the bench.

"Still natural. Not all divers shave, but I like it. I won't until just before Nationals. Do you like that, or do you want to see all this skin smooth and hairless?"

I was completely mesmerized by his hands stroking over those sweet curves.

"Hmm, I think you like something. You're an ass man, aren't you, Balian?"

"Yes." I licked my bottom lip and then somehow tore my eyes from his body to stare up at him. "Wait. How did you know that I..."

"My mother loved Faces of France when it came out two years ago. You actually used one of her cousins as a model. I looked you up and found out that wasn't the only type of book you'd made. The human body seems to inspire you to create some of the most beautiful shots I've ever seen... but you seem to highlight one part over and over in your erotic pictures."

I couldn't help but look right at his ass.

"When you gave me your card, I knew exactly who you were. I couldn't believe you were shooting here or that you wanted me to pose for you." His voice lowered. "I saw you watching me." His cock started to plump up, right there in the locker room.

"Paul." Here he was, the embodiment of my type, and he was hitting on me. "I don't know..." I let go of the bench with one hand, flexing my sore fingers. I ran my hand through my hair, desperately trying to clear my mind of the lust that was turning me into a blithering idiot. "The college has a-a morality clause."

"I know, but I've loved your work for years." He smiled at me. "I have to admit I've had a huge crush on you for a while." He ducked his head. "I had to pinch myself when I heard you groan in the hall. I peeked in the mirror while we were walking in and saw you looking at my ass. When I'd heard you moved here last year I dreamed about meeting you and making you want me. I didn't know you knew any of the coaches here though."

"You don't have to make me." My voice was breathless. My heart was racing. I'd never had this reaction to a fan, but I'd never seen anyone I wanted as much as I did Paul. I stood up but I didn't reach for him. I didn't want the first time I touched him to be in the locker room. "Why don't you shower while I get my stuff? Meet me outside and I'll take you to dinner."

"Dinner?"

I took a deep breath. "To start."

Paul grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Sounds good."

****

"I've always been amazed at your talent. You had a show before you even entered college. Your junior year, you put out your first book. I mean, I know you know what you've done, but well... I'm still a bit in awe, I guess." Paul took a bite of his steak, closing his eyes slightly as he chewed. A little sauce had dribbled on his lip, and I watched avidly as he licked it off.

"My parents got me a camera when I was six. I've been taking pictures ever since." I shrugged one shoulder. "It's a lot of trial and error." A huge amount of trial and error. I couldn't begin to count the number of rolls of film I went through before digital became available.

"A lot of what I do is practice," I said. "I guess there's such a thing as a talent for it, just like some people have a talent for sports, but knowing how to create a shot with good composition takes training."

Paul nodded. "Like diving. I'll never be Olympics material, and I know it. I'm good enough to have gotten a full-ride scholarship and keep it, but only because Coach dogs us to practice."

"So you don't plan to conquer the world one plank at a time?" I'd already finished my grilled chicken breast and steamed vegetables, but I was sipping the cup of Irish coffee I'd ordered while Paul finished his steak.

"Nope. I'm going to be an environmental engineer."

"Wow. That's quite the goal. I'm impressed." I took another drink of my coffee, enjoying the sweet cream and the bitter dark roast.

"I already have a line on my first job when I graduate next year. I've been interning at Joaobcon Inc. during the summers. I'm hoping to land the junior engineer position at their corporate office here when I'm done next May." The waiter came over and offered us a refill on our coffee. I put my hand over my cup. I didn't need caffeine jitters.

Paul's silverware clinked as he set his fork and knife down on his plate, letting the waiter take his dirty dishes. He picked up his coffee. He took it black, which had surprised me a little. "So tell me more about this photo shoot. Are you doing a new book too?"

I shook my head. "Gallery show this time. I'm taking a short break from the books. I haven't done a show in a long time, but it felt right. Besides, I've been all over the world in the last year. I need some time to relax at home."

"And you're using athletes."

I took the folder with the check and tucked my credit card inside, leaving my wallet on the table. "There are a few artists doing conceptual art, a modernist painter, and a sculptor all using the concept of motion in their pieces. I wanted to use athletes."

"Why not go with pros? Well-known names that people would recognize." Paul leaned back in his chair, toying with his napkin.

"This isn't about the athletes themselves; this is about the way they use their bodies, how they move and bend in the pursuit of their sport. That's why I decided to use college-level athletes instead of pros. I thought you'd be great as a Frisbee player, but I'd love to have some photos of you diving. I'm paying, and you'll get copies of your prints. We'll make an extra one for your mom." I winked at him. "I'll even sign it."

Paul chuckled. "You know how to butter a guy up, don't you? Dinner, promises of money and gifts..."

The waiter came back with my receipt, stopping me from replying. I couldn't look away from Paul, not even as the waiter thanked us and then left. I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "The money and prints are yours if you agree to pose for the show. Dinner— and anything else that might come after— is us spending time together because we want to, no obligation involved." My voice was husky. I wanted Paul, but not if he thought there were strings attached.

His foot brushed my calf under the table, rubbing up and down gently. I'd never had someone play footsie with me before. I'd never understood the appeal but now the illicit movement made me shudder.

"I'm thinking we should go back to your place." Paul raised an eyebrow at me when I hesitated. "Because we want to."

I put my card back in my wallet with shaking hands. "After you," I said. I tucked my wallet into my back pocket when I stood up, before following Paul out of the restaurant.

"You know," Paul said on the way to my car, "you like to walk behind me an awful lot." He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Any particular reason why?"

Uh huh. The tight black jeans painted over his perfect butt. He'd already blown the cover on my fetish wide open, so why hide it? "You have the best ass I've ever seen." My hands positively ached to touch him.

Paul laughed. I enjoyed the light sound and the way his eyes lit up with humor and desire. He held out his hand, and I reached for it, letting him pull me up beside him. He tugged my arm around his waist and then slid my hand down. The firm muscles flexed as he walked, holding my hand to him with his palm covering mine. I swallowed hard, rubbing my palm in small circles and then squeezing one cheek.

"Oh." He pushed backward into my hand, arching his back.

I couldn't believe I was touching him. It had only been a day since the first time I saw him, but he'd occupied much of my mind since then. Lust slammed into me and walking got awkward really fast.

"How," he stopped and cleared his throat, "how far is it to your place?" Paul asked.

"Twenty minutes."

"Too long," Paul groaned.

"I've a king-size bed and a dual-head shower." I knew exactly how a college student lived in the dorms, having only left them a few years earlier myself.

"We'll survive twenty minutes." It might be the only foreplay I could get, if Paul was as eager as he seemed. I loved seeing him practically vibrating with the need to touch and be touched.

A slow smile spread across my face. The drive felt like a lot longer than twenty minutes because at every light Paul would reach over and stroke my leg, the caress creeping higher and higher each time. The edge of his pinky skimmed the bulge of my cock at the last light before the turnoff to my street.

Sweat broke out on my forehead. "Driving here." He was a lot more aggressive than I expected.

"Not while we're stopped."

"Oh gods, you're going to kill me." I groaned, way too turned on for this kind of torture.

Paul's face was cast with a red glow from the light. "But you'll enjoy every second."

My hands had a fine tremble that made turning off the engine and getting the front door unlocked difficult. Paul was standing close to me; I could smell the faint scent of chlorine under his cologne. The spicy scent coupled with the sharp undertone was heady.

I locked the door behind us, taking a moment just to breathe as I set my camera equipment carefully in the hall closet while Paul set the gym bag he'd brought down against the wall. I needed to find my control but I was hanging onto bare shreds by the tips of my fingers. "Do you want a drink?"

"No. I want to go to your room and try out that king-size bed you used to lure me here." Paul held out a hand to me, and I took it. I was suddenly calm. "Lead on."

My room was down a short hallway. I hadn't made my bed this morning, but the sheets were mostly clean. I'd only slept in it for one night and my maid service had put fresh ones on right before I got home. I couldn't wait to see Paul spread out across my bed, so I turned on the lamp on the nightstand.

Paul nailed me to the wall beside the bed when I stood back up. He pulled my head down and our lips met for the first time. He tasted like steak sauce and spice when I sank my tongue into his mouth. He moaned, his hands clutching the back of my head. I pulled him in close to me with both hands on his ass. Our cocks rubbed together as we kissed again and again, pulling away, gasping for air and then sinking back into each other.

"Fuck, you can kiss," Paul said. His lips were swollen and dark where I'd nipped at him. I had one hand on his back, tugging his shirt up. I loved his mouth but I needed more of him. I needed his skin.

The first thing to go was his white T-shirt. All that dark skin over sleek muscles and I could finally touch. My dreams from the night before had been hot. I'd spent all night worshiping what I'd imagined Paul to look like, but he was even more cut in person. I circled his small brown nipples, skimming the edges but not quite touching the sensitive tips.

Paul arched into my touch, and then his hands were tugging at my shirt. It choked me, too tight at the neck to come off over my head. "Buttons." Paul grunted, then fumbled my shirt back down and attacked the buttons on my polo, undoing them so he could rip my shirt off.

"Oh, nice." He ran his hands through the light hair on my pecs, tugging. "Very nice." I grabbed his hands and started walking him backward toward the bed. I pushed him down.

"Let me." I went to my knees in front of Paul where he sat on the edge of the bed. I wanted to touch every inch of him, to trace the muscles and taste the salty sweat on his skin. I started at his feet, unlacing his tennis shoes, and then tugging them off. His white socks were next, exposing long feet. His toes were calloused and two of them were purple. I barely skimmed my fingers over them.

"Hazard of the sport, the edges of those planks can be hard," Paul explained.

I nodded and rubbed my hands up his calves over his jeans. I slowly worked my way up to his knees, then his thighs. His legs fell open for me. There was something so sexy about a man in button-fly jeans. A sharp tug on each one popped them open. He was wearing shiny, red... Speedos!

"You seemed to like them." I swallowed hard as Paul lifted up his hips so I could pull down his pants.

The gorgeous diver I'd gawked over in the doorway at the gym was back, but this time he was in my bed. I groaned, unable to resist the wet spot growing over the wide head creating a bulge in the tight fabric. "Gorgeous." I leaned forward and mouthed that spot, tasting salty pre-cum as I traced the bulges with my tongue and then sucked hard.

"Fuck, Balian!"

"Not yet." I had to see that ass. I urged Paul back onto the bed, then over onto his stomach. His thighs were slightly furry, just enough to tickle my palms as I skimmed the heated flesh. There was just enough room for me to kneel between Paul's legs on the bed.

"Are you really sore?" I asked him. He'd mentioned needing a massage. I lightly traced the edges of the briefs where his ass met his thighs, tickling the sensitive area.

Paul flinched and shuddered, then pushed back. His voice stuttered when he spoke. "N-No. I just wanted to get your attention." I smiled, impressed with his technique.

"Never been a problem," I murmured. Cruelly, to tease both of us, I leaned forward and began stroking Paul's back, up that deep groove along his spine. He had freckles on his shoulders, just a light scattering. I began kissing them, starting at the back of his neck and working my way down his shoulder. I paused to suck up a mark, biting down lightly and scraping the reddened skin.

"You're driving me crazy." Paul tried to push his ass against me, and I sat back on my knees. "I need you in me. I've been thinking about you since we met this afternoon."