One finger slid inside Vic and he gasped with delight as he stood on his toes. In his mind’s eye he saw Matt a moment before, surreptitiously squeezing out a healthy palmful of lube from a half-used tube that had fallen earlier from the sink into the tub. Now he worked that dollop into Vic with his forefinger as he thrust into his palm, slathering his c**k.
Standing on the balls of his feet, Vic pressed against the sink and watched himself moan. The sound that escaped his throat was guttural and low, primal in its need. “f**k me, Matty. Oh, God. Oh, Christ. Just f**k me already, will you? Please.”
Matt’s flushed face appeared over Vic’s shoulder in the mirror with an enigmatic grin like the damned Cheshire cat’s. “I thought we were taking this into the bedroom?”
“Here,” Vic commanded. “
