“Awfully quiet tonight,” Keller remarks as he takes a seat beside Toby on the bunk, pulling off his boots. “Penny for your thoughts?”
Cracking a cold beer on a hot summer day, his fingertips smudging the perfect constellation of droplets glistening on the glass – the first delightfully bitter sip of a celebratory martini after a long day of litigation, lips barely kissing the delicate rim – the sweet, dark aroma of bourbon under cover of night, walls away from his sleeping family.
Toby shrugs. “Nothing in particular.” He pencils a 3 into the half-finished sudoku grid, then frowns and erases it. “You?”
The subtle shift in scent as desire turns to fear, arousal stretched to its furthest point – warm blood pumping under his fingertips as his grip tightens, quickening in pace even as breathing sputters and slows – the light fading behind cracked mirrors as the body beneath him stills and falls silent, transitioning from man to meat.
Keller kicks his boots under the bed. “Nothing in particular,” he echoes, plucking the pencil from Toby’s hand and leaning in for a kiss. He tastes Toby’s smirk.
“Liar,” Toby murmurs when their lips part. “It’s always sex, with you.”
“Aw.” Keller raises his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.” He pushes Toby down onto the mattress (my hands around your throat, my face the last thing you see – my name the last thing you curse). “So what – you gonna pretend you weren’t thinking the same thing?”
Limbs heavy, thoughts receding into static – he feels nothing, will remember nothing. “Guilty, your Honor.”