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“What are you doing?” he asks faintly.

What the heck do I even say? “Oh, hey, Elliot, I discovered I have a thing for my feet. Wanna see some pics?”

Slowly lowering my legs, I scramble to sit up and ball my hands in my lap to hide the evidence of my arousal. There’s not much I can do to hide my massive erection, but it’s instinct.

“I, uh…” I stammer eloquently, my mind spinning its wheels in the mud. “I was just…you know.” I vaguely gesture at my feet as if that explains everything.

“You were just admiring your feet. As one does.”

My face burns with mortification, the red spreading down my neck and across my chest. I take a deep breath and try to gather my scattered thoughts. I guess there’s nothing for it but to come clean.

“Okay, look. I kind of made a deal with the Ice Queen. I told her I’d send her pictures of my feet if she agreed to stop writing about you on her blog.”

Elliot’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, eyes widening behind his glasses. “You did what now?”

I pick at a loose thread on my comforter. “I know, I know. It was a stupid thing to do. But I couldn’t stand the thought of her continuing to invade your privacy.”

I risk a glance up at him to gauge his reaction. To my surprise, he doesn’t appear angry or disgusted. If anything, he’s intrigued.

“Alex mentioned you’ve been in touch with her.” Elliot takes a step closer to the bed. “I didn’t realize it was quite this often.”

I shrug one shoulder, my blush deepening. “I wanted to protect you.” Suddenly, I feel absolutely foolish. “Fat lot of good that did, though, huh? Now I’m the one making a spectacle of myself.”

Elliot hums thoughtfully, closing the distance between us. The mattress dips as he settles on the edge of the bed. I swallow hard, suddenly extremely aware of his proximity and my still-raging hard-on.

“Can I see them?” Elliot asks softly, nodding toward my feet. “The pictures you took?”

My heart stutters in my chest, and a jolt of arousal zips down to my balls. “Uh, sure.” I fumble for my phone with shaking hands, nearly dropping it in on my boner. “They’re not that good, though. I’m no photographer.”

Elliot smiles and plucks the phone from my grasp. “Let me be the judge of that.”

He swipes through the photos with an unreadable expression, and I try to decipher his thoughts as he zooms in on one particularshot. The one of my soles with the arches on full display. My breath catches in my throat as his index finger traces the curve, mirroring the path mine had taken earlier.

“These are pretty good,” he murmurs, low and appreciative. “But it still doesn’t explain one thing.” His gaze flicks pointedly down to my dick tenting my sweatpants before meeting my eyes again. “What’s up with that?”

I rub the back of my neck sheepishly and scramble for an explanation that doesn’t make me sound like a total perv. “Well, uh, the thing is…every time I’ve taken pictures for the Ice Queen of my body parts and stuff, I kind of get really, um, excited.”

“Excited? Really?”

“Yeah, first it was the butt pics, then the hand shots. Now, even my feet are enough to get me rock hard.”

“Interesting.” He sets my phone down and leans in, bracing one small hand on my massive thigh. I nearly jump out of my skin at the contact. “So, what do you do about it? After you take the pictures, I mean.”

I usually like to wrap my hand around my aching cock and stroke myself to thoughts of Elliot’s pretty pink lips and tight little body. But I can’t say that, not to his face. “I, uh, I don’t really do anything. I always get interrupted before I can, you know…”

I make a vague jerking-off motion with my hand, feeling like a complete tool. Elliot’s eyes widen slightly, his lips parting on a soft “oh.”

He stares at me from under his lashes. “That must be really…frustrating. Getting all worked up and then being unable to finish.”

“Dude, you have no idea.” I shift uncomfortably as my trapped erection throbs insistently. “It’s the worst case of blue balls every freaking time.”

Elliot tilts his head, considering me with those big brown eyes. “What if you didn’t have to stop this time? What if you could…you know, take care of it? While I watched?”

I choke on my spit, my eyes bugging out of my head. Did I hear that right?Holy cheese on a Ritz cracker.

“You want to watch me?” My voice cracks the same way it did when I was going through puberty. “Like, watch metouchmyself?”

“Yeah, if you want to, that is. It’s only fair since I interrupted you and all.”