Chapter 57

As he thinks about his boyfriend in the other room waiting for him, Dante begins to slow his strokes, the washcloth rasping over his groin, the soap beading in the hair at his crotch. Slower, his fingers slipping between his legs, rubbing, circling, kneading. He holds onto a nearby rail and lets his eyes slip closed, his hand working below his hardening shaft, the washcloth soft and sudsy and warm along hidden flesh. When a moan escapes his lips, it startles him, his hand clenching himself in a sudden ardor, and in his mind’s eye he sees Ryan on the bed, naked and pale, beneath him and raising his hips to meet Dante’s gentle thrusts.