Richie was only mildly concerned when he felt his chair shifting underneath him, even when he realized it was being moved out from under the table, so that both of the other men could get closer to him. Even as he felt Ben’s smiling lips on the thin, sensitive skin at the base of his throat, he felt fingers at the buttons of his loose shirt, and the fabric being eased off his shoulders, baring his torso. He didn’t think they were Ben’s fingers—Ben’s fingers were tangled in his hair, weren’t they? And they certainly weren’t his own fingers, because they were tangling back into Ben’s fine blond hair, and caressing the smooth, strong neck…
Richie gasped, and arched back in his chair. The hands were so obviously Craig’s, because they were firm and assertive, like the man himself. They ran smo
