Zack spent the rest of his evening angrily playing guitar and ignoring calls from his mom. After he broke his third D string—and nearly lost an eye in the process—he finally put his guitar away and went to bed.

He woke up just after dawn on Monday, though he didn’t have to be at work until six that night. He’d always been an early riser, a fact that shocked nearly everyone who knew him. His odd work hours had made him selectively nocturnal, but on the days after he didn’t have work, when he was well rested and recuperated, he liked to wake with the sun.

Zack breezed through his morning routine and then took Ziggy out for a run. It was a cool, crisp day. The sky was cloudless, and the grass still shimmered with dew. Zack breathed in deeply. On mornings like this, when it was quiet and still, he could almost forget he lived in a city of four million people.

They ended up at a park two miles from their apartment. It had been gentrified a few months back, so the dead patches of grass were now rolling green hills, and the rotting picnic tables had been replaced by jungle gyms and neat flower beds. Zack threw sticks for Ziggy to fetch and ran around with him until his muscles screamed. He loved the feeling a good workout gave him. It reminded him that he was young and alive. It made him want to do something dangerous just for the thrill of it.

Zack stopped to catch his breath and stretched his arms above his head. His black shirt had become skintight with sweat and rode up over his stomach, exposing a thick strip of taut, tan skin. Zack happened to glance to his left and caught a man—a fit blond with a wide smile—staring at him. When Zack made eye contact, he jogged over and asked what breed Ziggy was. It took everything Zack had not to smirk. He’d recognize that approach anywhere, mostly because he’d used it a hundred times himself.

Zack spent a few minutes chatting before the blond inevitably inclined his head toward a set of nearby public bathrooms. The motion was so subtle, Zack might not have caught it if he hadn’t been waiting for it. He started to nod but then hesitated. A sense of unease settled in his stomach. He knew what would happen if he followed the blond, and even though it’d been a while since he’d gotten laid—at least, by his standards—he somehow wasn’t up for a random encounter. He paused for a fraction of a second longer before smiling apologetically at the blond and shaking his head.

The other man looked surprised, which made Zack wonder if something about him screamed “exhibitionist,” but he backed off. Zack stared mournfully at his ass as he left, already regretting the decision. It could have been over in ten minutes, just a quick and dirty fuck against a wall. Images flooded into Zack’s head: he’d shove the blond into a stall and kiss him so hard, their lips would bruise. He’d fumble between them until he managed to get their pants pushed down and a hand around their cocks. It’d been weeks since anyone but Zack had touched his dick. The thought alone made longing stir low in his belly. Zack would have come in no time at all, and then he’d never see the blond again.

Zack sighed and willed his burgeoning erection away. He could chase after the other man, but he had a bit too much dignity for that. His good mood all but gone, Zack decided he was ready to go home. He found Ziggy rolling in some grass, looking like pure happiness in dog form. The sight made Zack forget his ennui.

“You’re such a good boy,” he cooed as he ruffled the dog’s long fur. “I’ll buy you some treats on the way home.”

When they got back to their apartment complex, Mr. Alvarez was waiting for them in the backyard, toolbox in hand.

Zack raised his hand in greeting. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Just fine, son, just fine. I was hoping I’d see you today.”

“Were you waiting long? Good thing no one ever uses this place but us.”

Mr. Alvarez smiled. “I think they never use it because they know we’re always out here. That, or Ziggy scares them away.”

“My little marshmallow? Never.”

The two men spent the next few hours bent over Marilyn’s engine. They finished replacing the stuck thermostat like they’d planned, and then checked her belts for wear.

“They don’t make ’em like this anymore,” Mr. Alvarez said fondly, patting Marilyn’s shiny paint job.

“I dunno,” Zack said. “Sometimes I wish she had one of those fancy, computerized brains, so I could get her to tell me what’s wrong with her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s just a little old. She’s a sixty-nine, after all.”

“Sh,” Zack whispered in a horrified tone. He covered one of her side mirrors with his hand. “She’ll hear you.”

Mr. Alvarez exhaled in a way that reminded Zack of his mother. “I’ve always meant to ask: how did you get your hands on a Firebird in the first place?”

“Dumb luck,” Zack answered. “I saw an ad for her on craigslist one day and thought it was a joke. The guy had no idea what he had. I paid him double what he was asking just because I felt bad.”

“Well, I think it was worth it.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Zack pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. “I have to get ready for work. Keep an eye on my baby, will you?”

“Which one?” Mr. Alvarez said as Ziggy jumped up on him.

Zack laughed and trotted off toward his apartment. When he’d showered, dressed, and locked the front door, he made his way to work.

The sun was just contemplating setting when he left. LA at dusk was a sight he never got tired of no matter how many times he saw it. Even in the most derelict parts of town, the streets were always filled with lights and sounds and people. It was like living in a little man-made galaxy, a microcosm of sensory input. Zack spent the bus ride staring out the window and thinking about how lucky he was to live here. Much as he understood why his sister had moved away, he didn’t think he could ever do the same.

When he arrived at the office, Colette was waiting for him. Her arms were crossed, her manicured brows were pinched, and one of her black pumps was tapping the ground impatiently.

“I’m guessing you have news,” Zack said as he approached.

“You have a Murmur from a man named John,” she said without preamble.

His pulse leaped into overdrive, but he kept his expression neutral. “It’s nice to see you too.” He pulled off his jacket and walked toward his desk.

Colette followed him. “Is this the same John who called you before?”

“How should I know? I haven’t read the Murmur yet.”

“I’m serious, Zack. Have you caught a whale?”

He reached his cubicle and threw his jacket over the back of his desk chair. “You know, I’ve always hated that phrase. Whale conservation is nothing to joke about.”

Colette rolled her heavily mascaraed eyes. “Oh bullshit. If you care about whales, then I’m Jenna Jameson.”

“I don’t not care about them, and I’ve actually thought before that you bear a striking resemblance to—”

“Stop fucking around, Zack. I’m asking you directly: have you landed a repeat client? I’ve checked your logs, and the past two times you spoke with a client who called himself John, your conversations lasted well into double commission.”

Zack had no reason to keep the information from her, so he shrugged and said, “Yeah, this John guy has called twice. The first time, he got me randomly. The second time, he asked for me.”

“And now he’s called again?”

Zack shuffled his feet. “I guess.”

“Good,” she said. Her pink lips parted into a kittenish grin. “Make sure you treat him well. If he becomes a regular, your numbers will be where they need to be for once. Wouldn’t you like for me to finally get off your ass?”

“Depends on what you do while you’re there.” Zack winked.

“Very cute, as always,” she said tartly before turning away. “Don’t disappoint me.”

As soon as she left, Zack sat down at his desk and reached for the Murmur in question. It was as nondescript as the previous ones: it listed the client’s name, a request for dirty talk, and a time for him to call. Zack checked the time. It was six on the dot, and John didn’t want him to call until eight. He had plenty of time to prepare.

Now that Colette was gone, he let a frisson of excitement course through his body. He’d thought about John every day since their last conversation. He’d touched himself to the memory of his voice more than once. And now, he was going to get to talk to him again.

Hot, heady anticipation coiled in the pit of his stomach. He wondered what sort of scenario John would want to play out this time. Whatever it was, Zack was certain it would give him a week’s worth of masturbatory fantasies.

He spent the next two hours doing everything he could to make time pass more quickly. He checked his company email—something he never did unless Colette threatened him—and took a few random clients. He didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to them, though. He might have described paint drying, punctuated by the occasional half-assed moan, for all he knew. Even with the extra work, time passed far too slowly. Zack checked the batteries on his clock twice to ensure it was still working.

Finally, at 7:52 p.m., Zack decided he’d had enough. He picked up his desk phone and dialed the extension, holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear. He drummed his fingers on his desk as he waited for the ring. He listened to the familiar clicking sounds transfer him anonymously to the correct line.

After three of the longest rings of Zack’s life, deep laughter danced down the line.

“Well, well,” said a familiar voice, “is this Wesley?”

“It is,” Zack replied. “I’m here to make all your dreams come true.”

“I’m sure you are, Darkling. You’re early. Were you that eager to talk to me?”

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” Zack answered in his usual sexy purr. He could make the dictionary sound appealing when he used this tone.

John’s reaction was immediate. “Good,” he breathed. “I have something special planned for tonight.”

“Oh?” Zack’s arousal level went from zero to sixty. God, John gave him a rush he hadn’t felt since he first started the job. Maybe not even then. “Tell me.”

John tutted. “You really are eager, Wesley. Not going to ask me how my day was first? I’m beginning to think you’re just using me for sex.”

Zack laughed. “All right, fine. How was your day, John?”

“Tedious. Enormously tedious.”

“Long day at the office?”

There was a pause. “Actually, no, I’m a law student.”

Zack forced himself not to react. “I thought you said you work for your father.”

“We were role-playing,” John said carefully. “You know, for our scene. The businessman and the rentboy. I was just playing my part.”

Zack had to admit, he was kind of impressed. John was clearly willing to go the extra mile for authenticity.

“That makes sense. So, law school, huh? You must have brains to go with that sexy voice of yours.” If John was still in school, that would make him around the same age as Zack. Younger clients weren’t unheard of, but college students generally didn’t have money to spend on things like sex hotlines. Zack’s clients tended to be middle-aged. John, however, could be as young as twenty-two. The knowledge made Zack squirm, not in a bad way.

“My school seems to think so,” John said.

Zack started to ask which one he went to but decided against it. Too personal. “I’m intrigued.”

“Don’t be. The life of a law student is dull. I only got through today because I had this call to look forward to.”

“I know that feeling. My shift started two hours ago, and I’ve been waiting to call you this whole time.”

“The anticipation is the worst, best part. Before we get into it, I want to hear about your day. What did you get up to before work?”

“Went for a run, played with my dog, worked on my car. The usual.”

“Ah. How is Spot?”

“He’s fine. Very well fed at the moment. I bought him some treats earlier.”

“Any particular reason?”

Zack considered telling John about the blond he’d almost gotten off with. A little jealousy sometimes did his clients some good. Zack’s gut was against the idea, however. It was better not to take risks this early on, and he didn’t know for sure how John would react. He couldn’t afford to lose a client this good.

He concocted a quick lie that was mostly true. “Just because. I spoil him rotten. He’s my baby boy.”

“That’s sweet. What about the car you mentioned? What kind is it?”

“A 1969 Pontiac Firebird.”

John whistled. “I admit I don’t know much about cars, but that sounds nice.”

“She is,” Zack said. “She’s a beauty and a beast: a cherry-red, two-door hardtop with a 5.3 liter V-8 and a two-barrel carburetor. Two hundred and fifty horsepower, and she tops out at a hundred and twenty miles per hour.”

“I didn’t understand a word of that,” John said, “but it was hot.”

“If you think that’s hot, then you should imagine me bending over the engine, sweaty, shirtless, and covered in grease.”

John moaned. “Fuck, that’s an image I won’t soon forget.”

“Good. So, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, why don’t you tell me about this plan of yours? Unless you want to listen to me talk about cars all night.”

“It’s just an idea I had,” John said dismissively. His usual cocksure attitude seemed diminished. “You impressed me the last time with your versatility and how easily you went along with my scenario. After we hung up, however, it occurred to me that it’s your job to act like you’re enjoying yourself, and you might not have meant what you told me.”

Zack started to interrupt, but John cut him off. “Don’t bother reassuring me. I have no way of knowing if you mean it or not.”

Zack frowned. “That’s true, I suppose, but what brought this on? You’re usually so . . .”

“Confident?” John supplied.

“Yeah.”

“I know. Honestly, it’s because you were so good last time. I kept asking myself if that was because we have genuine chemistry or because it’s your job to please me. I like you, Darkling, and I want to know for sure that you enjoy our time together.”

Zack’s thoughts raced. “What do you mean?” Did John want pictures or something? That was definitely not allowed.

“I think I’ve come up with a way to give us both what we want,” John continued. “If you’re willing, I’d like to try it out.”

Zack hesitated and then said, “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

“I want to act out one of your fantasies. It can be anything you like. I want the chance to please you this time.”

Zack fell silent. He knew he should be wary. John was getting personal again, and even if there was no way he could figure out Zack’s identity from his fantasies, it still hit a bit close to home. However, Zack had to admit the idea was tantalizing. He didn’t often get to pick the role-play, and John had proven he had a talent for phone sex. Whatever Zack picked was almost guaranteed to be hot. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reveling in the promise of future pleasure.

“I can really pick anything I want?” he asked.

“Yes,” John answered. “I want to know what your fantasies are, Wesley. What turns you on?”

At first, his mind was blank. For all the kinky and occasionally depraved things he’d done, he couldn’t think of a single thing that felt quite right for John and him. Zack considered himself fairly vanilla—at least, compared to most of the people who called him. He couldn’t pick something cliché, however, or John might be bored.

He took a quick mental survey of everything he knew about John. He had a thing for class discrepancies. That much had been clear from the start. He seemed to like that Zack was a bit of a man’s man from the way he fixated on his rough hands and car. He was also a law student, which sort of played into Zack’s “he’s rich” theory. Law school wasn’t cheap even with loans, and it meant he’d signed himself up for seven years of college. If John had committed to that, he must like university life.

An idea popped into Zack’s head. He mulled it over, weighing it against a few other possibilities. The more he considered it, however, the more convinced he became that they’d both love it.

When he was satisfied, he wet his lips and said, “Your parents think we’re just roommates.”

There was a beat of silence, and then John said, “What?”

Zack let the words curl around his tongue. “We met in the dorms freshman year when we were assigned to the same room. We hit it off right away and have become close friends. Now it’s winter break, and you’ve invited me to come home with you for the holidays. We’re going to stay at your parents’ house for a week. They think that I’m sleeping on an air mattress by your bed. They’re not wrong, at first. Nothing’s happened between us yet, but it’s about to. I’m going to sleep in your bed tonight, John. I’ll wait for your parents to turn in, and then I’ll make my move. We’ll pull the covers over our heads, and I’ll press my hand hard against your mouth so your parents won’t hear you moan while I fuck slowly into you.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then John whimpered.

It was just about the most erotic sound Zack had ever heard, more arousing than all the dirty words in the world, because it was a sound of pure, unadulterated want. Zack’s skin prickled. Any doubt he’d had about whether John would like his idea vanished.

“That’s perfect,” John said in a rough voice. “I’ll start.”

He paused for a second—Zack heard him draw a breath—and then he said, “Thanks for coming to stay with me, Wesley. It’s so boring out here in the country when it’s just me and my parents. I think bringing a friend home helped convince them that I’m adjusting well to college life.”

“Shows what they know,” Zack drawled. “I’ve always been a bad influence. If they only knew the trouble I’ve gotten you into.”

John chuckled and said, “We should keep it down. They went to bed hours ago.”

“You worry too much. They’re all the way on the other side of the house.”

“True. I don’t think they’ll care if we stay up a bit longer, as long as we’re quiet.”

Zack grinned wickedly. John sounded so innocent, like he wasn’t aware of the implication behind his words at all. Zack was impressed. John had a knack for inventing characters on the spot, and he was a decent actor too.

Zack’s objective was clear: seduce the sheltered rich boy. He closed his eyes and began putting a scene together in his head: two young men in a large, well-furnished room. John was lying on a bed while Zack reclined on an air mattress on the floor. They were staring up at the ceiling as they talked, arms folded beneath their heads. John had an eye for detail, so Zack decided to add some of his own for realism.

“I think it’s cute that you still have star stickers on your ceiling,” Zack commented. “I had the same ones when I was little. The glow-in-the-dark kind.”

John laughed. “Dad put them up years ago. I can’t reach them to take them down.”

“Would you, if you could?”

John seemed to consider the question. “No. I’d leave them up there. It wouldn’t feel right without them.”

Zack smiled. “You know, this air mattress isn’t bad, but it’s nothing compared to your bed. I bet your parents sprung for thousand-thread-count sheets or something ridiculous like that.”

“It’s pretty nice,” John admitted. “They’re always buying me things I don’t need, though. They’d probably buy me friends if they could.”

“What a coincidence, I happen to be for sale. I accept cash and gold.”

John laughed, and Zack pictured him craning his neck to get a peek at the man lying on the mattress below him. Fantasy-Zack stared back unabashedly. He still had no idea what John looked like, so he cobbled together an amalgamation of the average college student: medium skin tone, medium hair color, medium height, though he did imagine that he had a nice body. This was supposed to be for Zack, after all.

“You’re staring at me, aren’t you?”

Zack started. Damn, John was psychic. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that. How’d you know?”

“I could feel your eyes on me.” John’s tone was teasing. “Thinking about something?”

“Yeah,” Zack said, letting his voice get rougher. “I am.”

“Care to share with the class?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Well, go on.”

Zack pretended to hesitate for a second, and then, as if he’d gathered his courage, he blurted out, “Have you ever been with a guy?”

John sucked in a breath. It sounded so involuntary, Zack almost believed it. John stammered, “W-what makes you ask that?”

In his head, Zack sat up and leaned toward John. “I don’t know. I’m curious.”

“You really think I’m gay?” John sounded flustered.

“That’s not exactly what I asked you.”

“What else could that mean?”

“Lots of things, but I’ll bite. There’s just something about you. Not to say that you’re, like, effeminate or anything. You know I wouldn’t judge you, right? If you were gay.” Avenue Q started playing in Zack’s head.

“I’m really not, though,” John protested weakly. He didn’t sound convincing at all.

Zack saw his opportunity and pounced on it. “Then why haven’t you ever dated a girl? We’ve been roommates for months now, and you’ve never even had a girl over. I’ve seen a few throw themselves at you at parties. If you’re not gay, why do you always turn them down?”

“I . . . I just . . .” John burbled. “I don’t know.”

“Sounds to me like you can’t think of a good lie.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Sh,” Zack breathed, “you’re so loud, John. Your parents are going to hear you.” Zack’s voice was a carnal hum in the darkness. “I’ll climb up there with you, and we can whisper.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” John said. His voice shook.

Zack chuckled wickedly. “Too late. What’s the matter, John? Are you afraid to be in the same bed with me?”

John made a noise that was half-panicked and half-aroused, but otherwise he didn’t respond.

“You say you’re not gay,” Zack continued, “but I can hear you trembling. It’s clear that I’m affecting you. Why won’t you just admit it?”

“There’s nothing—I’m not—”

“Oh, come on, John, did you think I wouldn’t notice the way you look at me? We share a dorm room, for Christ’s sake. Every time I change clothes, you watch me. When I turn around, you look away, like you’re worried I’ll catch you. A straight man wouldn’t act so guilty.”

“Wesley, stop it,” John said without at all sounding like he meant it.

“Stop what? Telling you what you already know? Or stop moving closer?”

“Both.”

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t like it if I touched you right now.”

“Oh God,” John moaned. “Wesley, what are you doing? We’re supposed to be friends.”

“If you really want me to stop, I will,” Zack said. “But I don’t need to see you to know you’re turned on. I can feel how hot your skin is and hear how hard you’re breathing. I don’t think you want me to stop at all. Say the word, though, and I’ll go back to my own bed.”

“Wesley, please.”

“Please what?” Zack whispered savagely. “Say it.”

John swallowed hard. “Please touch me.”

“God yes,” Zack hissed. “I push you down and crawl on top of you. Now that you’ve said yes, I can’t get enough of you. I want to touch and kiss every part of you at once, but I settle for crushing my lips to yours. It’s painful and our teeth click together and there’s far too much tongue, but it’s perfect at the same time. We’re both wearing shirts and pajama bottoms. Your body is hot and firm beneath me, all wiry limbs and muscles. When I shift my hips, I can feel your erection pressing against my thigh. I didn’t think I could possibly get more turned on, but I’m almost dizzy with it.”

“Fuck, Wesley,” John moaned, “you’re so fucking hot. I can’t believe I tried to pretend I didn’t want this.”

“Well, you can’t pretend now. I can feel how badly you want it, John.”

John moaned again, and Zack grabbed the edge of his desk with white-knuckled fingers. Arousal—molten hot and inebriating—shot down his spine and pooled in his groin. He was every bit as hard as he’d claimed, and the desire to touch himself was overwhelming.

“Please, we have to be quiet,” John begged. “If my parents hear what we’re doing . . .”

Zack swore under his breath. The thought of being caught added a new level of sexiness to the fantasy.

“Get under the covers,” Zack ordered. “And take off your pajamas. I want to feel your skin.”

“Yes, please,” John panted. “Don’t stop.”

“I strip my own clothes off and throw your blanket over us,” Zack said. “The air quickly grows hot from our ragged breaths. It feels like we’re cut off from the rest of the world, in our own private bubble. I start kissing every part of you that I can reach, from your neck to your collarbones to your chest. Your skin smells like salt and sweat, and I can’t help but dart my tongue out to taste it. I move my legs so that I’m straddling your hips, and our erections align. Everything feels so good, from your skin to your velvety-hot cock rubbing against mine. I even love how solid your body feels beneath me. It makes me want to press you into the mattress and fuck you raw.”

“Wesley,” John sobbed, “do it. I want you to.”

Zack feigned hesitation. “You’d really let me? But you just said your parents might hear us.”

“I don’t care. I want you so badly. Please fuck me.”

“I don’t have any lube,” Zack protested. “I didn’t—I wasn’t sure if we were ever going to—”

“I don’t mind. I don’t need it. I just need you.”

“Fuck,” Zack said in a dazed voice, “and you’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d let me fuck you however I wanted, without lube and everything. You dirty thing, I bet you’d love it too.”

“Yes,” John pleaded. “I love everything you do to me.”

“Okay,” Zack murmured, “okay, but just a little. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t care what you do, just do something.”

Zack drew a shuddering breath. “I reach for your dick and fist it, giving it a long, slow stroke. It’s wet with pre-come, and I coat my hand with it while leisurely jacking you off. I love how tense you are beneath me, taut and quivering. Your eyes are clenched shut, and I can tell you’re trying not to fly apart into a thousand pieces. Once my hand is wet enough, I slide it beneath you and probe at your hole with my slick fingers. You’re too tense, so I bend down and kiss you deeply until you start to relax. Then I smear your own pre-come around your entrance until I can push in. You’re so hot inside, even hotter than your skin, and the way you clench around my finger goes straight to my cock. God, I want to fuck you.”

“Then do it already,” John grunted.

Zack shivered. “It’s not enough, John. Just pre-come, sweat, and one finger.”

“You don’t understand. I feel like I’ll die if you don’t. Wesley, fuck me now!”

“Christ, okay, but remember you asked for this.” Zack closed his eyes and let the fantasy engulf him in a cloud of hazy desire. “I roll you over until you’re on your hands and knees. You’re supple and fuckable beneath me as I press my chest to your back. I use my left hand to line my cock up with your hole while my other hand reaches under you. I press the head against you, but you’re too tense for me to slide in. I stroke you until you’re distracted enough for me to pop into you, just a little, just like I said, but then you feel so good I sink in deeper without meaning to. You make an incoherent noise, and at first I think I’ve hurt you. Then you start moaning. I shove my hand against your mouth to muffle the noise. You bite down on it, and the sharp feel of your teeth digging into my skin makes me want to fuck you mercilessly.”

“Christ, yes, do that,” John babbled.

Zack could hear him masturbating on the other end of the line. Judging by his lack of coherency, he was probably close. Zack was turned on to the point of hypersensitivity. Even the air conditioning felt like electricity against his skin.

“I abandon any hope I had of being gentle and start thrusting into you. You’re so tight and hot and perfect. You squirm beneath me as I drive into you, completely out of control, and just as I think I must be hurting you, you press your hips back in time with my thrusts, shoving me deeper into you. It’s so intense I can feel my orgasm looming over me. I start stroking you in earnest, desperate to make you come first. Even my hand clapped over your mouth can’t stop your moans. The bed is squeaking in such an obvious way. Anyone listening could tell exactly what we’re doing, but I’m too far gone to care, and you’re howling under me. You get louder and louder until I’m sure the whole neighborhood can hear just how much you love being fucked by me.”

“Oh yes,” John moaned blearily. “I’m close, I’m so close, Wesley. Just a little more, and—I need, you need to—Christ.”

Zack growled through gritted teeth, “I concentrate everything I have left into keeping a steady rhythm, pounding into you and stroking your cock in time with my movements. My own pre-come has long since mixed with yours, and sliding in and out of you feels incredible. I couldn’t stop now if I tried. I feel something twist deep inside of me, ready to spring. I’m close too, John, so close. I just need to hear you come, feel you unravel beneath me. I want to feel you come undone while I’m still inside you. God, I love fucking you.”

John came with a loud, luxurious moan. He sounded startled, as if the power of it surprised him. Zack listened with a mixture of lust and envy. A few seconds later, John grunted and then breathed like he’d just finished a marathon. Zack bit his own lip as hard as he could to distract himself from how impossibly, achingly hard he still was.

When John got himself back under control, he said, “Wow. That was just what I needed. You continue to surprise me.”

“It was my pleasure. Or, at least, it will be once I’m home.”

John laughed in a sated way and said, “I want a play-by-play next time. I’ll talk to you soon, Darkling. Good night.”

The line went dead. Zack hung up his phone and checked the log. Call time: thirty-eight minutes.

Zack stared at his computer, mentally debating with himself. Murmur Inc. had an extremely strict no-jacking-off-at-work policy, and Zack had never been tempted to break it. Right now, however, John’s desperate moans were still ringing in his ears. His erection wasn’t going to go away on its own.

Zack sighed and rubbed his temples. God damn it. He took a perfunctory look around. Three of his coworkers were chatting nearby, but they weren’t paying any attention to him. The path to the bathroom in the back was clear. As discreetly as he could, Zack stood up and strode toward it. His jeans rubbed against him with every step, and he had to press his lips together to keep from making a sound. He forced himself to walk at a normal pace. As soon as he cleared the men’s room door, he threw himself into a stall and swiped the lock shut. He had his jeans open and his cock out faster than he could think. He bit down on the heel of his left palm and jerked himself furiously, desperate to come. Normally when he masturbated, he liked to draw it out, but finesse was the furthest thing from his mind right now. He just wanted to get off before he could think too hard about how embarrassing this was.

John’s voice echoed in his head as he touched himself, beautiful and erotic. It only took him a minute to come.

Zack’s orgasm was completely unsatisfying. He stroked himself through it, catching his come in his hand. When he was finished, Zack let his head fall back against the cold wall and thought, I am so fucked.