Somewhere in the dim recesses of Rich’s mind, pain existed. Bruised knees. Aching back. Caught in the throes of climax he didn’t care. A vague wonderment flared. Would he ever stop coming?
He did, but the aftershocks locked him in place as lava rushed through his limbs. Joints screamed, and extremities tingled. He must move. Movement was the only way to hold back the rising tide of misery, but he couldn’t so much as put down a hand or a knee.
“f**k…Rich.”
Not an instruction or question. A plea. A hand pushed against one of Rich’s shoulders, Ethan unable to move either, the nudge useless.
“T-Trying.” Rich shoved off with a foot on the lower tier, but slipped, and pitched over, grinding into Ethan. The resulting moan and the way Ethan shuddered was not from pleasure, nor entirely pain. W
