Knox wrapped a hand around it anyway. He stroked him in time with his hips. Wet sounds. Skin. The quiet grunt Knox made every time he bottomed out. Tate reached up and put his hand over Knox’s mouth. Knox’s eyes flashed. Then he bit Tate’s palm and kept going harder.

They heard the elevator ding down the hall.

Knox didn’t pull out. He dropped his full weight onto Tate, buried himself to the hilt, and went still. Their hearts hammered against each other. Footsteps passed the door. A keycard beeped two rooms down. A door opened. Closed.

Knox started moving again, smaller now, filthy little rolls of his hips that...