[All of this still felt almost like a dream, like he would wake up in the morning to find he had gotten drunk and passed out alone on his couch again. But Max’s body was very solid and real under his hands and Max’s hands, those hands that could work miracles, could bring people back to life, or take life and take Michael apart with just those hands, those were very real.]

Yeah, yeah okay. Says the guy who looks like he came out of a rugged cowboy wet dream. [He laughs, fingers ghosting over the bruises he left on Max’s hips before inching lower, sliding over his length. His touch was tender, loving and even in the haze of exhaustion, he was tempted to linger. If he got to touch this man every day for the rest of his life it wouldn’t be enough but he knew the hot water wouldn’t last long so he kept on task, hands massaging over his thighs and around to his ridiculously perfect ass. This time he let himself linger.]

Okay, now I need to know. Have you masturbated to thoughts of me before?