Some time later Rob stirs. He lays half on top of Mike, both of them above the bed covers, their bellies sticky with c*m where their flesh presses together. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Rob glances across Mike to the clock on the bedside table. It’s shortly after midnight. As Rob swings his legs over the side of the bed, Mike murmurs, “You really have to go?”
“It’s getting late,” Rob says.
Mike laughs softly. “The old nine to five, eh? Some of us have to work tomorrow, I know.”
Another opportunity to tell him what Rob does for a living. A moment’s silence, and the opportunity is gone.
Rob stretches, savoring the snap and pop in the small of his back, then runs a hand along Mike’s bare leg. The hair on Mike’s thigh puffs up under Rob’s touch. “You’re here for a week, right?”
