But just when he started to stroke their erections, a knock on the bedroom door interrupted him.
“Fuck,” Lane muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.
Remy ducked down, resting his forehead on Lane’s chest. Raising his voice, he called out, “What is it?”
From the other side of the door came the muffled reply. “Daddy, there’s no TP.”
Lane snorted. “No what?”
“Toilet paper,” Remy explained. He tried to remember what the bathroom had looked like the night before, when he gave Lane a tour of the cabin. Had there been any toilet paper out? He couldn’t recall, but he knew they hadn’t bothered to pick up any at Wal-Mart. “Damn it.”
Braden knocked again. “Dad? I need to pee.”
Remy groaned as he rolled off his lover. “God,” he muttered, then raised his voice. “I’m coming!Hold on a minute, will you?”