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    Summary

    It’s starting to feel like this is not just about him feeling sorry for what happened earlier. Daniel says as much aloud, unable to help it even if it might mean shooting himself in the foot. Even if he might risk putting an end to this by giving it name.

    “Hmm,” Rashid hums in feigned contemplation as he settles one knee on the bed beside Daniel’s hip. The index finger of his left hand dips underneath the sleeve of the older man’s cardigan. Runs along his pulse point, his veins. “What do you think it’s about, then?”

    “No fucking clue,” he replies, his stare dragging up the line of Rashid’s throat, over the curve of his jaw, past his mouth and up to his eyes. The boy isn’t meeting his gaze, his lashes fluttering in the direction of Daniel’s wrist. His lips are parted slightly. He looks—he looks.

    He looks horny. Wrecked. Devastatingly pretty.

    Rashid huffs an airy laugh. “Liar.”

    Language:
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