Dante sits on the edge of the bed, flicking
through the tv channels as he waits for Ryan to finish his bath.
It’s been almost fifteen minutes since he left the room service
cart outside their door and Ryan disappeared into the bathroom—how
long does it take to clean up? He better not be jerking off in
there, he thinks grimly, flicking to the next channel, then the
next. If that’s the case, what about him? He wants in on the fun,
too.
Then a wicked thought occurs to him and he
smiles. Maybe he can speed things up and take matters into his own
hands, literally. He pictures Ryan in a tub full of suds, his pale
shoulders against the white porcelain, his hair dark and wet.
Speaking of wet…clicking off the tv, Dante stands and pulls
his shirt off over his head as he stretches. If hi
