Ba'al

All of these things Mike realizes, much to his dismay. The leaking doesn't stop and he tries to arrange the shirt so he's not making a mess everywhere. But trying to wrap the shirt over his dick just seems to make everything worse. How could that much even come out of him? He tries getting the shirt as free of folds as possible and holding it snug to the end. That's a bad plan, as well. How is he still so damn sensitive? His fingers aren't quite as rough, trying to stem the flow with pressure alone. But the pressure starts building inside. At one point he tries to just hold out against the feeling, both hands gripping his cock. With grit teeth and eyes shut, he tries to will it away. But like holding his hand to something hot, eventually his body took over and forced his hands away. The cum spurted out into the shirt, and he slumped against the wall with a twisted look of defeat.

He was resolved to simply stay there until it stopped when he heard the cabinet open. He lifted his head, if merely out of curiosity. He goes tense the instant he sees the thing, assuming Hadad intends to put it inside him. But when he presses the button, he's not so sure anymore. It could be anything. Something he couldn't even fathom.

Momentarily forgetting his embarrassing problem, he scrambles to his feet, his hands outstretched. Ready to fight or defend, he wasn't sure. He knows now just what that smile means, and he's going to be ready for whatever Hadad tries.