From the way Barry shifts beside him, one hand drifting to adjust the bulge at the front of his jeans, Chris knows just what he’s doing to the man. Whatever argument had been brewing minutes ago dissolves beneath Chris’s words. “Barry,” he sighs, nipping Barry’s earlobe between his teeth. “You gonna tell me? Or do I have to guess?”
A hand drifts to Chris’s knee, gives it a squeeze, then rubs higher up his thigh, easing under the hem of his shorts to rub along tender flesh. “Tell you what?” Barry asks, dazed.
Chris snickers and fists his hand in the mess of curls atop Barry’s head. “About your band, remember? You wanted me to ask about your practice. So I’m asking. Why—”
Suddenly Barry turns toward him, cutting off his question with a forceful kiss. Chris finds himself pressed back again
