Cover Up by KC Burn

the faint mechanical sound before. Edging closer to Parker’s closed bedroom door, the sound got a trifle louder. It sounded like… no. It couldn’t be. A vibrator? They couldn’t be still having sex, could they? Ivan dashed into his bedroom and shut the door. A wipe-down with a towel would have to do for tonight. He wasn’t leaving his room until morning.
    The moonlight streaming into his room provided more than enough illumination such that he didn’t need to turn on the light. Within seconds, he’d pitched his sweaty clothes in the hamper and grabbed a towel to wipe away the worst effects of his run. He lay back on the bed, one arm behind his head, able to relax now that he couldn’t hear any of Parker’s sexscapade. The sweat drying on his scalp itched, but he ignored it. He could shower in the morning, once his muscles recovered from his run.
    What kind of sex did Parker like? He didn’t get much of a sense from the short glimpse of the porn Parker had been so quick to turn off, but then, porn preferences didn’t always translate to bedroom preferences. Parker’s skin was smooth and made for licking. The shy smiles, so at odds with what Ivan expected from a drug dealer, said he’d probably react well to a few gentle sucks and nips around the ear and neck. Slowly he’d work his lips down, over the prominent collarbone that peeked out of Parker’s shirts. Would the flat discs of his nipples be the same rich peach as his lips, or would they require a bit of tonguing to bring out their color?
    As his cock began to fill, he wrapped his fingers around it and tugged. Would Parker grip him firmly or tentatively? Would those long fingers be cool on his overheated skin or hot, like brands? Neil didn’t seem like a considerate lover—was there anything Parker had missed out on? Rimming, perhaps? What would those innocent eyes look like as he gazed up Parker’s lean body, bent almost in half, while he buried his tongue in Parker’s ass? Would Parker cream just from that? Would Ivan?
    Ivan spat on his hand and pumped his now fully hard cock, twisting the tip a bit on each upward stroke. He had lube in his drawer, but even that took more energy than he had.
    Would he ride out Parker’s orgasm with a tongue up his ass or would he suck down Parker’s dick, just to feel it flex against his tongue while he came? No. He wanted to see Parker shoot all over himself, helpless against the tide of orgasm; he wanted to watch every second.
    Ivan gasped, and his back arched as his own orgasm exploded without warning, and he sprayed himself almost exactly as he’d imagined Parker spraying, although he pictured Parker without any chest hair. Panting, he used the towel he’d dropped beside the bed to wipe away his sticky cum. He’d be pissed at himself the next morning, but between the orgasm and the exercise, he was too blissed out to care.
    As his eyelids drooped, he scanned his room one last time and sat up, sleep swept away in a flood of adrenaline. He flicked on the bedside lamp and got out of bed. His briefcase had been moved. Hadn’t it? Had Parker snuck into his room and searched it while he was out running? Peering at the desk, he tried to remember how he’d left it. Not one thing of Ivan’s would incriminate him, so a search would only confirm he was nothing more than the loser his undercover identity proclaimed, but it was a harsh reminder of the reality of his situation. He couldn’t let his guard down for a moment. Including while fantasizing about the man he was investigating. How unprofessional and idiotic could he get?
    He turned off the light and lay back down on the bed, stiff, but not in a good way. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought he heard something move, or he’d glance at another part of the room, trying to compare it with his fuzzy recall of precisely how he’d left his things. The search should ultimately make him seem harmless, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed something