It was either that or the amount of cum Zane had left in Roach
“It helps me wake up,” Zane answered, stretching as the shockingly cold rivulets rolled down his chest, thighs, and all the way to his feet.
Roach roared. “But I hate it! I was up till two a.m. yesterday! Give me a fucking break.” His voice was followed by a much weaker, resigned pounding at the door.
Zane exhaled and switched off the water before twisting excess water out of his damp locks. “It’s already eight in the morning!”
“Yeah, and last night I had to fight a three hundred pound trucker because he wouldn’t leave the bar when told to, so let me sleep!”
So that was what the ache in Zane’s side had been about.
He stepped out of the stall and unlocked the door, peeking outside, where Roach was still rubbing his arms up and down in a useless attempt to keep the cold at bay. His eyes were all puffy, which made him look like a giant baby.
“Hi.”
Roach went silent at the sight of Zane naked, as expected. Now that it had gotten so much colder outside, he slept in a long sleeve and pajama pants, but those were tight enough to reveal the shape of his body. It couldn’t hide how hard Roach’s nipples were from the cold.
“Hey. Good morning. I guess.”
Zane smirked and leaned against the doorframe, sensing the droplets of water sprinting down his chest and back as they rolled off his damp hair. “You guess?”
“‘Cause it’s not good, is it?” Roach groaned and, as if self-conscious of his nipples, crossed his arms over his chest, cupping his own pecs.
Heat flushed Zane’s face as if Roach had breathed straight at him, but the gesture of protection only drew more of his attention to the broad chest. Wouldn’t seeing it naked be the perfect start to his day? They should have more than enough time for a warm-up before their date with Zane’s new contact.
Roach’s eyes were unfocused, but they caught light when Zane trailed his fingertips up his own chest and slowly rubbed around his nipple. “No?”
This game of arousal was a discovery Zane couldn’t get enough of. Seeing Roach’s breathing quicken made it that much more fun. Sometimes, Zane would touch himself when Roach was at work, eager to discover how far away Roach would have to be for the connection to no longer communicate arousal. It had worked without fail so far. Last week, he’d jerked off so hard that Roach had texted him to stop watching porn. But Zane didn’t need extra stimulation when instead he could masturbate to the vision of Roach squirming in the diner kitchen as he tried to hide a boner while washing dishes.
“I’ve got work. I could have slept another hour.”
Roach always took any extra jobs Culver had on offer. If it wasn’t repairs, it was washing dishes, security at the bar, or deliveries. That man never knew how to say no to more money. Maybe that was what kept him so stagnant?
“But you’re already awake,” Zane mused, tossing his hair back, just because he knew that seeing it was a juicy sausage to Roach’s inner dog. Roach was so easy, Zane had to keep an eye on him to make sure no one got the stupid idea to try to hit on Roach now that it was known he was gay.
Zane would keep him for as long as Roach was allowed to breathe. And he’d stop breathing once the curse was lifted. Possibly. That used to be the plan, but while Zane wasn’t so sure of it any longer, Roach didn’t need to know he was out of danger. He’d be getting no aces in his hand. As far as Roach was concerned, he had five Jokers.
Roach cocked his head and dropped his arms, his nipples still hard under the thin fabric. “You wanna do something with that time?” He stepped closer and ran his fingers over Zane’s arm. His hair was messy, his beard in disarray, but the fucker could be seductive when he wanted to, and in two months of living together, it was impossible for Zane to hide that he did in fact find Roach hotter than summer in Georgia.
It was the effect of the curse—what else—but the sensations stirring in Zane at the touch were most definitely real nevertheless. And since good things were sometimes so hard to come by, Zane never said no to them.
Humming, he pushed his fingers into the dry, insufficiently-hydrated strands at the back of Roach’s head and pulled him in to make sure Roach knew who was in charge. “Get in there and clean yourself for me,” Zane said, his chest rising with pride.
The flush on Roach’s cheeks never got old. No matter how eager for it he was, the big chunk of biker always got a bit shy about bottoming and everything it involved. “As in…?” He looked back at Zane, already halfway to the shower.