Spit was not enough assistance for the games they played, but they played them anyway: moving slowly, cautiously; drawing heated breath through dry lips, whispering words of praise and huffing pleas.
The block had been quiet, the small retail shops shut down for the night and the cars that had once sat alongside the curb with Ian’s, long gone. Only the street lights watched, their faces turned down to try and peek through steamed windows at the bodies moving inside the vehicle; glowing their approval at the two men finding comfort in one another’s touch.
Justin squirmed spine against leather, wet skin protesting movement with mouse-like squeals, and Ian gave silent kudos to the powers-that-be that granted flexibility to young men. He ignored the seatbelt buckle that kept trying to bite h
