Chapter Eight
Lucas’s breath seemed to choke in his throat. He felt slightly light-headed. The beat became louder in his ears: Tom, Tom, Tom.
Tom was quite different from him. Not just the black hair at his groin, but the shape of his balls, the shape of his c**k. His own balls were round; Tom’s were oval. Tom’s c**k was as long as his, but not as thick and its angle was different, jutting upwards rather than outwards. Its color was a deeper shade than his own c**k ever achieved, berry red rather than salmon pink, and the crest was conical rather than blunt, shaped like an ancient Greek helmet. Corinthian, a little voice said—irrelevantly—in his head.
Lucas’s throat choked even tighter. He swallowed and struggled to breathe—and felt craving clench in his belly.
He wanted to touch Tom’s
