Lee shifts a little on the table to take his weight off his throbbing c**k. He can’t meet Chris’s dancing gaze in the mirror. “You know how I am.”
“Man,” Chris drawls, turning back to the tattoo. “I wish getting inked turned me on.”
Hoping to change the subject, Lee asks, “Who does you?”
Too late, he realizes his question might be misinterpreted—he means which artist tattoos Chris, not who gets his friend hard. He doesn’t want to hear about this new guy of Chris’s, Barry whatever the hell his name is. Each week Chris seems to find someone new, and the way he goes on and on about his latest piece of ass always makes Lee sad. How long has he been waiting here for his chance? When will Chris finally tire of everyone else and notice him?
Fortunately, Chris knows what he’s asking. They’ve b
