It's not nighttime, Murray thinks fuzzily, his mind occupied with the way Nick's kissing the back of his neck, five o'clock shadow grazing the skin because Nick's not pressing light kisses against his skin, no, he's nuzzling into it, soft, appreciative sounds slipping past his busy lips as Murray shudders and gasps.
It's not even noon, when, as Murray's found out to his sorrow, so many men -- and women -- play with people they shouldn't, having sex on sin-soiled sheets…except he'd used those exact words to the boys and Cody had snorted with laughter and Nick had grinned and they'd apologized, sure, but he'd been hurt, and -- oh. Oh --
He chokes out Cody's name as his zipper's teased down slowly and Cody's hand finds what Nick's kisses have created. Murray's hard already, eager and willing and wanting and wanton, oh, yes, he is.
His glasses are slipped off, put aside, his clothing is removed -- and it's not early morning, when they wake in a tangle, the twin beds pushed together, and what they'd fallen asleep doing begins again, his skin still tender from touching, but aching for more.
No, it's ten-thirty in the morning, sunlight bright around the Riptide, and it's a Tuesday, a work day, and anyone could walk by, drop in…
He arches, mewls a sound that's supposed to be a protest but sounds an awful lot like 'please' and Cody smiles up at him and then goes back to what he'd been doing, and Nick finds another place on Murray to kiss.
He gets this in the morning, too?
That's…oh, that's boss.
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