Between them, Vic thumbed open the fly on Matt’s jeans. The zipper parted—his fingers eased into the front of Matt’s briefs, tickled through cottony hair, stroked the hard, thick shaft that jumped at his touch. “Please,” Matt moaned, taking a step back. He found himself up against the wall as the small bathroom closed in around them and everything else disappeared—everything that wasn’t Vic before him, the hands down his pants, the mouth on his.