“That was the best book ever,” Chad said, taking Tucker’s chin between his thumb and index finger, and kissing him, lingering and deep.
“Roy doesn’t like kissing,” Tucker said.
Chad kissed Tucker even longer. It was actually a series of kisses: short ones and long ones. Sometimes he touched Tucker’s face with both hands, sometimes with one, as the other rubbed up and down Tucker’s chest, always just short of the top of the underwear, where, once again, major gaping was occurring, because of arousal, and Tucker saw him looking. “Roy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
Roy grabbed Chad before his last syllable ended. “Maybe Scooter’s better at it.” He pulled him closer by the shirt and kissed him hard.
Tucker scrunched up his face. It looked too hard, like his lips were assaulting Chad’s entire lower face, getting it all wet and spitty.
“I don’t think Tucker’s the problem,” Chad commented.
“Show him how,” Tucker said.