Pressed Between Ken And Jeff (Part 1 of 4)
Jeff finally moved, stepping closer, his presence a sudden, electric charge in the space between them. “And what exactly have you been thinking about?”
The modernist industrial loft, David’s domain, is dark and cool, and worlds apart from the heat outside. Exposed brick meets polished concrete, softened by strategically placed, minimalist furniture and copper accents. The air, initially cool from the air conditioning, crept up slowly with the new invading heat of three bodies and the escalating tension between them.
David had just flicked off the main lights, leaving only the soft glow of uplighters to paint the space in amber and shadow; mood lighting. Jeff, still radiating the faint, musky scent of the club along with a more recent, sharp tang of anticipation, leaned against the rough, porous brick wall, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, fixed on David. Ken, a broader shadow, stood closer, his hand already finding David’s hip, a possessive anchor.
“So, this is it,” Ken said softly, drawing his hand against David’s skin, his thumb tracing the line of David’s jeans.
David’s breath stalled, a soft sound swallowed by the quiet. “This is it.” He met Ken’s gaze, then shifted to Jeff, who hadn’t moved, a silent, intense observer. “Took you two long enough to get here.” He joked, nervously.
Jeff pushed off the wall, a slow, deliberate movement that commanded attention. “We had to make sure you were serious.” His voice, deeper than David expected, held a playful challenge.
“Oh, I’m serious,” David countered, his own voice dropping to a husky whisper. He reached out, his fingers brushing Ken’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “Aren’t I?”
Ken’s grip tightened on David’s hip, pulling him fractionally closer. “You’re making a pretty good case, I can tell you that.” His eyes flickered to Jeff, shared a wink, then back to David, a silent communication passing between them.
