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Summary
He put his hands on the base of Sid’s t-shirt and rucked it up a little, revealing the warm skin of Sid’s stomach—tanned a bit, this far into the summer—and something he wasn’t so familiar with: a thin line of dark hair running between Sid’s belly button and the waistband of his shorts.
Zhenya stared for a second, mouth agape. Surely he would have noticed before, if Sid had any hair here, but there was no way. Every time that Zhenya had gotten him naked he’d been as smooth as he had been at nineteen, skin pink and shiny and warm to the touch. Zhenya had always just figured Sid was one of those guys who didn’t grow much—it wasn’t like Zhenya himself had anything much to write home about.