Twink woke with the strange feeling that he had forgotten something important.
For a moment, he didn't care.
He lay on his side, body deliciously sore, the kind of deep, satisfied ache that came from being thoroughly used. Warmth radiated from the man breathing slowly beside him.
Duncan Bell.
The sadistic, gruesome killer. One of the most dangerous men in the city. After the Rodrigos ofcourse
Twink turned his head.
Duncan was still asleep, flat on his back, completely naked. The sheets were twisted uselessly around his thick thighs. His warm-toned skin was littered with faint scars that told stories Twink didn't want to imagine. His chest rose and fell steadily, carved abs glistening faintly with dried sweat. His mouth was slightly open, snoring softly and his dick flopped soft on his tigh utterly unguarded for the first time since Twink had known him.
For the first time since this mission began, Twink noticed how devastatingly handsome he was.
His stomach tightened.
