freezing.
And his own thoughts didn’t even make any sense.
Shit! When had it grown so cold? A hint of vapour clouded the air when he exhaled. He rubbed at his arms. It was summer, and sure, the British weather sucked, but it had no right to be this chilly.
Ric hobbled over to the nearest radiator and put his hand to the metal. Not even warm. The heating must have turned off hours ago. No wonder his muscles were protesting every step and he was curled over like a hunchback.
Irritably, he rubbed at the back of his neck. It failed to release the tension. A long hot soak would sort it out, but he knew if he climbed into the bath now he’d be asleep in minutes. Did he really want to wake submerged in cold water tomorrow morning, when Zach stumbled into the bathroom looking for his razor?
Nope, not really.
A better plan would be to go to bed and sleep it off.
Bed, yeah. That place where Zach was.
He could be warm and snug, and wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. It was hardly fair to wake Zach at this hour, especially as he’d be doing it for the same wrong reasons that had stopped him initiating anything when it had been the other side of midnight.
They ought to have just screwed while Kara was out of the room having that head-to-head with her brother, instead of settling for a few rough kisses. It’s what he’d wanted to do, and what his frayed nerves and cock had demanded he do. He’d needed to finish things, but Zach – mister fair play – had said it was inconsiderate to leave Kara out.
Stupid rules.
Stupid conscience.
He ought to have listened to his dick and made it about sex, not emotions.
So just jerk one off, and be done with, you stupid bugger.
Like that’d even work.
It might. He could make himself come easily enough.
He pushed his hand inside his jeans through the busted fly and stroked along the hot length of his cock.
Coming wasn’t the problem. It was doing it in a way that didn’t leave him still hard and eager for more.
Ric briefly considered returning to the computer and surfing for porn, but ruled it out. His studio housed a collection of erotic material far superior to anything he’d find online. Nor did it require a computer to view it. He had only to flip around a few of the mounted images that lay stacked around the room.
Ric reached for the most recently framed pile of photographs, knowing they were all of Zach, some with Kara, some without, all highly voyeuristic. The first was a close-up of Zach’s face. He remembered taking this particular shot so vividly, how Zach’s spine had arched to meet the back of the spindly wooden chair, and how his hand had been positioned on his cock, stroking. Ric had stepped in at the last minute and brought Zach off. He’d watched his lover’s eyes close, lips part around a cry of pleasure – beautiful, and yeah, the money shot had been pretty spectacular too.
But no. This wasn’t the answer. It would only intensify his need. While wanking was undoubtedly quick and efficient, it rarely satisfied him even when he wasn’t tetchy as hell. He’d rather shoot once in a way that left him reeling than give himself arm ache seeking fifteen lesser quakes.
Of course, he’d happily watch Zach play with himself until doomsday.
Sex was what he needed. Rough, glorious, bruising, sweaty, dirty sex. Maybe he needed to forget that crap about being noble and just accept that it was OK to be selfish sometimes.
Ric squinted at the clock. It didn’t seem very likely he’d find Zach awake and waiting for him. He nevertheless made his way downstairs to their bedroom.
A pale yellow glow shone around the edge of the door as he approached. Zach had obviously fallen asleep with the lamp on. Ric went inside. Sure enough his lover was comatose on his back, splayed across the mattress like a starfish, completely naked, unless you counted one scrunched corner of the duvet that he was clinging to like a security blanket.
Most of the bedding was on the floor, including all but one pillow. Kind of made him wonder if it was intended as a hint that he should sleep there.
Well, fuck that.
Ric stripped off his jeans and approached the bed. He stopped near the base, next to where Zach’s foot overhung the mattress, and traced the curve of his instep.
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