Chapter 95

“Mmm.” Milo reached for the large, stiff tool really close to his face.

“It’s not shy anymore. But I gotta goooooooo.” The despondency over the situation, or maybe the hand on his still super-sensitive, never-fired erection, something had the word coming out like a whiny wail.

“I know. I know.” Milo cooperated after that. Tom Alan stood over him once he was all tucked in, watching his breaths become deeper and calmer. He pushed back the wild mane and kissed Milo on his restful, closed eyes. “Mmm,” he got back.

Tom Alan dressed, then picked up the books that had fallen earlier—Milo’s college texts—and a highlighter. One of Milo’s feet was sticking out from under the covers, one beautiful, bare, large foot. “You asleep?” Tom Alan whispered.

“Yup” came the lie. Tom Alan laughed and reached for the marker. With one eye open, sleep-faker Milo complained, “That tickles.”

“You can’t look ‘til morning,” Tom Alan said. “Deal?”

“Deal.”