Later that night, in their room after the team dinner in the hotel banquet hall, the men sat on the bed leaning against the headboard watching the evening news. Brendan rolled toward Adam and ran his hand down his torso. He slipped it under the waistband of the sweatpants Adam was wearing and began to run his fingers through Adam’s lush ginger bush.
Brendan kissed Adam’s shoulder and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” Adam answered, not turning his attention away from the screen.
“Oh, I think there is,” Brendan persisted, still nuzzling Adam’s chest and beginning to massage his balls. “Come on, tell me.”
Adam shifted slightly. A soft moan escaped his lips as he hardened beneath Brendan’s touch. He put his hand on the back of Brendan’s head and pressed it against his
