Yes. God. Jason tossed the paddle away—it landed on the rug, so that was fine—and stroked Colby’s backside, fingers exploring, memorizing the feeling, tingling with it. He’d done that. Not to hurt—never, never—but to be exactly what Colby needed from him. Which right now involved that last item on his husband’s wish list.
He nudged Colby off his lap and onto the couch, after a glance to check in—Colby did love being put where Jason wanted him, but surprise motions would never be great ideas—and heard the gasp as sore spots met the plaid blanket, pink against red-and-black wool. But Colby’s eyes were purely delighted, finding Jason to gaze up at; Colby’s c**k pressed upward, dripping lavishly, and those long legs spread in invitation.
Fuck yeah. Jason flung off his shirt, shoved down his
