They eat on the bed but fully clothed, which
Dante hopes to remedy soon. Now that they’re alone, he keeps
rubbing Ryan’s legs where his boyfriend has them stretched out
beside him and he can’t stop staring at Ryan’s eyes, his lips. He
wants to cuddle up to him, hold him tight, giggle breathlessly and
touch him in places that make those blue eyes gloss over. Finishing
his hoagie, Dante balls the deli paper up in one fist and tosses it
at the trashcan by the dresser but it lands pitifully short of the
basket. “This is why you don’t play ball,” Ryan laughs.
With a wink, Dante lies down beside him
again, his hand drifting towards Ryan’s crotch. “Speaking of
balls…”
Ryan swats his hand away. “I’m eating here,”
he says. “When I’m done.”
“Aren’t you done yet?” Dante asks.
When Ryan
