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Summary
Pressing Leon tighter against himself. He feels the shape of Leon’s dick through his basketball shorts, unmistakably half-hard.
Then, he hears it before he feels the pressure against his jean-clad thigh, airy sighs escaping Leon like a prayer. Humping Chris’s thigh in unhurried and inconsistent motions, as if he’s aware he’s chasing something, but can’t tell what. It’s around this time that Chris knows to cut this shit short.
Whatever this is.
He wets his thumb, effectively snuffing the joint, and soldiering through the nick brought by the fire. Carelessly tossing it to the ashtray on his nightstand.
“Alright, that’s it. Up. Off.”