His arousal ground against Cole’s hip. When Cole tried to slide his hand over it, Brady caught his wrist, twisting his arm up and over his head.
“That’s not what I want,” he rasped.
Cole’s eyes were black, hungrier than he’d ever seen. Brady had kept the lights out last night for a reason. He’d cradled him from behind in the shower for the same reason. In the metaphorical light of day, he couldn’t avoid the truth any longer. Oddly enough, it wasn’t so bad.
“What do you want then?” Cole asked.
Brady replied by dropping his mouth to Cole’s throat, sucking at the tender skin before licking farther downward. He avoided the exposed cuts, the pungent scent of fresh blood still too heavy for his liking, and slid his grip down Cole’s arm as he went to his knees. He ended up facing the long line of a cock that he’d always thought was the prettiest he had ever seen.
He wanted to see it again. Only that was enough for him to finally let go.