the recliner.
“Give that to me,” Javier said, and Randy automatically shifted it farther away, to his opposite hand, and peered down the length of his arm to get a look at it before Javier had a chance to grab it from him.
Nelson couldn’t resist, either. He snagged the final page as it slid from the back of the laser printer. Whatever the big secret was, Tim didn’t seem to be in on it. He stood there with a mug of water in his hand, blinking at the confusion.
Nelson glanced down at the page he’d caught.
-6-
to the nape of your neck. I press my teeth against it.
VoR: Yeah.
J: Should I bite you? You like that?
VoR: Yeah.
J: You feel my teeth, hard against your skin. I hold them there while I’m pumping your cock. Do it. Good and hard. That’s my hand. And press your neck into the back of your chair so you can feel my teeth on you while I bite you. Stroke it fast.
VoR: Yeah.
J: You’re doing it fast? I have no mercy—I want you so hard you BEG me to bury my cock in your ass.
VoR: Fuck. Do it.
“Ho, man,” Randy laughed. “This is a whole page about choad-sucking. Serious? You gay guys dig this shit? Way too close to the back door for my comfort. But I guess that’s the whole point.”
Schwing .
Nelson considered whether he should rearrange himself, or if it would just call attention to the fact that he’d be more than happy to participate in a page or two of “choad-sucking,” as Randy so eloquently put it. Not with Randy, of course. With….
Javier snatched the page out of Randy’s hand and wadded it into a ball.
“What?” Randy said. “It’s not like I’ve never seen porn before. Although, I usually go for pictures, myself….”
“Shut. Up.”
Seriously, didn’t everyone have their stash? What was the big deal? Besides, it wasn’t Javier’s stash, it was Tim’s. Javier seemed to be pretty worked up about it, almost as if he was taking it personally. What if…?
Nelson glanced down at the paper in his hand as unobtrusively as possible.
J: You like that hot, hard cock pressing into your tight ass?
VoR: So good. Do it.
Not porn. A chat transcript. And, holy smokes, this “J” dude might actually be….
Nelson enjoyed a giddy rush. Then he slowly, carefully, with just a single hand, folded the sheet of paper and slipped it into his pocket.
Javier swept by and grabbed up all the pages from the floor. “Where’s your garbage?”
Tim looked baffled. “Under the sink. But the recycling….”
Javier tore the transcript into small pieces. He even unwadded the page Randy’d been reading and tore that up, too. And he stuffed it all into the garbage.
“Hey.” Randy spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Dude, who cares?”
“Not another word.”
“It’s really no big deal.”
“Shut it.”
Randy sighed, and shrugged, and settled back into the recliner.
Chapter 11
Tim stood, holding the mug two-handed, and waited patiently for Nelson to take it like he was bearing an offering. If Nelson had looked good in his medicated sleep while Tim dressed him, he looked super-good now—because it wasn’t exactly his features or his body that made Tim stupid with want. It was the way he held himself, and the shrewd light in his eyes. He was busy watching Javier and Randy bicker over some printout, and Tim? Tim was busy watching him.
Nelson tucked his hair behind his ear and hiked up his borrowed sweatpants—Tim might never wash them again—which just slipped back down over the crest of his tattooed hipbone. Tim wet his lips. Javier stuffed something into the garbage, then announced that he needed some air, and stomped out onto the fire escape. Nelson noticed Tim standing there with the water, took it, and said, “Uh, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Nelson raised the cup to his lips, turned and walked around Tim, and drank. God. Tim felt like such a spaz.
Nelson approached Randy. “You got a hell of a shiner.”
“Damn
“Give that to me,” Javier said, and Randy automatically shifted it farther away, to his opposite hand, and peered down the length of his arm to get a look at it before Javier had a chance to grab it from him.
Nelson couldn’t resist, either. He snagged the final page as it slid from the back of the laser printer. Whatever the big secret was, Tim didn’t seem to be in on it. He stood there with a mug of water in his hand, blinking at the confusion.
Nelson glanced down at the page he’d caught.
-6-
to the nape of your neck. I press my teeth against it.
VoR: Yeah.
J: Should I bite you? You like that?
VoR: Yeah.
J: You feel my teeth, hard against your skin. I hold them there while I’m pumping your cock. Do it. Good and hard. That’s my hand. And press your neck into the back of your chair so you can feel my teeth on you while I bite you. Stroke it fast.
VoR: Yeah.
J: You’re doing it fast? I have no mercy—I want you so hard you BEG me to bury my cock in your ass.
VoR: Fuck. Do it.
“Ho, man,” Randy laughed. “This is a whole page about choad-sucking. Serious? You gay guys dig this shit? Way too close to the back door for my comfort. But I guess that’s the whole point.”
Schwing .
Nelson considered whether he should rearrange himself, or if it would just call attention to the fact that he’d be more than happy to participate in a page or two of “choad-sucking,” as Randy so eloquently put it. Not with Randy, of course. With….
Javier snatched the page out of Randy’s hand and wadded it into a ball.
“What?” Randy said. “It’s not like I’ve never seen porn before. Although, I usually go for pictures, myself….”
“Shut. Up.”
Seriously, didn’t everyone have their stash? What was the big deal? Besides, it wasn’t Javier’s stash, it was Tim’s. Javier seemed to be pretty worked up about it, almost as if he was taking it personally. What if…?
Nelson glanced down at the paper in his hand as unobtrusively as possible.
J: You like that hot, hard cock pressing into your tight ass?
VoR: So good. Do it.
Not porn. A chat transcript. And, holy smokes, this “J” dude might actually be….
Nelson enjoyed a giddy rush. Then he slowly, carefully, with just a single hand, folded the sheet of paper and slipped it into his pocket.
Javier swept by and grabbed up all the pages from the floor. “Where’s your garbage?”
Tim looked baffled. “Under the sink. But the recycling….”
Javier tore the transcript into small pieces. He even unwadded the page Randy’d been reading and tore that up, too. And he stuffed it all into the garbage.
“Hey.” Randy spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Dude, who cares?”
“Not another word.”
“It’s really no big deal.”
“Shut it.”
Randy sighed, and shrugged, and settled back into the recliner.
Chapter 11
Tim stood, holding the mug two-handed, and waited patiently for Nelson to take it like he was bearing an offering. If Nelson had looked good in his medicated sleep while Tim dressed him, he looked super-good now—because it wasn’t exactly his features or his body that made Tim stupid with want. It was the way he held himself, and the shrewd light in his eyes. He was busy watching Javier and Randy bicker over some printout, and Tim? Tim was busy watching him.
Nelson tucked his hair behind his ear and hiked up his borrowed sweatpants—Tim might never wash them again—which just slipped back down over the crest of his tattooed hipbone. Tim wet his lips. Javier stuffed something into the garbage, then announced that he needed some air, and stomped out onto the fire escape. Nelson noticed Tim standing there with the water, took it, and said, “Uh, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Nelson raised the cup to his lips, turned and walked around Tim, and drank. God. Tim felt like such a spaz.
Nelson approached Randy. “You got a hell of a shiner.”
“Damn
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