It was evening before Rob finally stirred and unlocked the handcuffs. Eli sighed, drawing his arms down into the warmth and letting Rob massage his wrists and hands with a pleased hum. He was sore—Rob had not been difficult to persuade about the whole f*****g him raw thing—and sticky. The exhausted heat of having finally scratched a maddening two-week itch was coiled heavy in Eli’s blood, and rendered him utterly f*****g blissful.
“God, I needed that,” he whispered.
Rob chuckled, hand warm and heavy on Eli’s side.
“I was crawling out of my skin by the time you sent me that picture of your cock.”
“That was after a wank, too.”
“At least you can wank.”
“True,” Rob said amiably, and kissed the top of Eli’s head. “Sorry about the straight guy comment.”
“S’fine,” Eli said lazily. “Make it
