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Rory’s heart pounded so hard in his chest the whole bunk was shaking. He held his breath so he could listen to Sebastian jerking off. He gasped in a breath after he began to feel light-headed.

“Rory,” Sebastian said, sounding stern. “Touch your cock. Youneedthis.”

Rory’s fingers twitched. He reached beneath the sheet over him, slipped his hand into his boxers, leaving a slippery trailfrom the Vaseline, and then wrapped his hand around his cock. He didn’t need the lube, his cock leaked with vigour and his boxers were sopping wet, but there was no denying how good it felt when he used his coated hand to stroke himself.

Sebastian groaned and panted beneath him, but Rory stayed as quiet as he could, holding himself instead of stroking. He wanted to listen, and he shut his eyes, allowing himself to be seduced by the sexy sounds of the man below. Sebastian’s hand moved faster, the wet sounds got louder, and Rory shivered, tightening his fist around his cock, squeezing it to anchor himself.

“Goddamn it, Rory,” Sebastian growled. “Touch yourself.”

Rory’s cock throbbed, his balls tightened, and the tingle-like itch of an inevitable orgasm began. It only took three fast, firm pulls on his cock, and his orgasm smacked into him. His cock seized and relaxed, seized and relaxed, shooting his load onto his chest with each contraction of pleasure. He pressed his head back into the pillow and heaved for breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, squeezing as the last rope of cum left his cock and landed on his stomach.

The bed shook, and Sebastian’s breathing got faster and faster until a long, drawn-out groan rumbled out of his chest. Rory’s eyes fluttered just knowing Sebastian had brought himself to orgasm on the bunk below. He fought an irrational urge to drop down and see the aftermath for himself, to ask to see it, to beg to see it.

Rory bit his lip until he tasted blood, hoping the pain might sober him from his depraved thoughts.

Sebastian’s light chuckle drifted up from the bottom bunk. Rory could barely hear it over his thumping heart and short, sharp inhales of breath through his nose.

“Feeling better?” Sebastian asked.

Rory swallowed. “Yeah. I…”

“Needed that,” Sebastian finished.

Yeah. Rory had.

11

“Ihope you’ve gotsomething for us,” Morris mumbled.

Another month had passed since they last spoke. A month of heavy breathing, slicked palms, and toe-curling orgasms. He couldn’t resist getting himself off whenever Sebastian offered him Vaseline, and on the nights Sebastian didn’t appear by his bed, pot in hand, Roryachedwith frustration.

“Rory!” Morris snapped.

Rory bit his lip. “I…I heard him on the phone.”

“And?” Hamish grunted.

“I didn’t hear who was on the other end, but they were talking about Jameson’s farm. Sebastian wants someone to buy it, or a piece of the land or something.”

“Did you hear any figures?”

“He said 250,000. Could’ve been talking money, could’ve been talking about the minutes until he’s out. I don’t know for sure.”

Morris shook her head. “Jameson’s farm? Who the hell is Jameson?”

Rory finally pulled his gaze off the desk and looked at Hamish. His moustache was patchy, his skin was pale, and when he wiped his hand down his face, Rory noticed his wedding band had gone.

“I know who Jameson is,” Hamish muttered.

Morris gawped. “Who?”

“He has a farm near my house, owns the fields behind my garden.” Hamish gritted his teeth. “Bastard…”

“You think he’s buying the farm?” Morris asked.

“Maybe.”

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