The Muse's Undoing

“Fischer…”

“Uh-huh?”

“What are you doing?”

I’m rubbing his outer thighs?

“I’m a little out of it,” I have to admit.

“I’d move, but this is bleeding like you sliced an artery.”

“Don’t move,” I say.

“Jesus,” he says softly. “Are you trying to turn me on, or are you just messing with me?”

“Both, probably,” I admit.

“You have a lazy grip,” he says. “Same as with your dick.”

“Doesn’t feel bad, though, does it?” I ask.

“Hmph. No. It doesn’t.”

“Told you,” I murmur. “I know how to masturbate.”

“Fischer…”

“Mmhm?”

“You’re not behaving yourself.”

“I hit my head.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“You do run hot.”

“Yeah…” He sighs, his thumb slowing on my face but stroking longer, lower on my cheek, closer to my mouth.

I slide my hands beneath the hem of his shorts, seeking more of his warmth. Wanting him closer. My fingers dig into his muscle, and I reach another hem. His underwear. “Uh-oh. I’m feeling you up, aren’t I?”

“Yep.”

“You have good legs.”

“Thanks.”

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he says. “We’ve done everything else tonight…”

“Not everything,” I say, remembering the conversation we had earlier at the club when I got ballsy and told him about the congressman. Had I told him about Grindr? I can’t remember. It’s been a long time since I was this close to touching another man’s cock. And this is Matty…

My best friend. My brother.

I swallow and pull my hands back to rest on his knees.

“Tease,” he says quietly.