While Eric empties his suitcase, Vince lies on his own bed and stares at the blank screen of the television set. It’s on a dresser between the desks and in its dark surface he can see his friend’s reflection as he stacks his clothes on the dresser beside Brian’s bed. “You’re quiet,” Eric says, trying to make conversation, but Vince doesn’t reply. He watches those flawless features frown in consternation and imagines ripping through those painted-on jeans to bully his way into that tight ass. Hard, hot thrusts, while he pulls Eric’s arms up like a bow between his shoulder blades. He sees that in the mirror of the TV, Eric bent over the side of the bed while Vince barrels into him, his legs kicked apart, his face buried in the covers to stifle his cries.
This is going to be one God-awful lo
