could come again this soon. Their bellies rubbed together and they bucked and grunted with the pleasure of it all. There was friction in everything; the scruff of Tay’s chin against Ink’s cheeks, the rub of hard cock against hardening cock, Tay’s hands in Ink’s hair, Ink’s hands on Tay’s arse.
Oh fuck. Ink had slid one slick finger into the crease of Tay’s backside. When he touched his arsehole, Tay tensed. The finger circled and pushed. Where had Ink got the lube? Magicked it up? Then it slid a little way inside and Tay stopped breathing, stopped moving.
Ink stared into his eyes. “Do I need to sing that song from Frozen?”
“Which one?” Tay was amazed he could speak.
“Not Do You Want To Build A Snowman?”
Tay snorted. “Reindeers Are Better Than People? And that s on reindeer still bugs me.”
Ink laughed. “Let It Go. I’m not sure whether to be worried that we both know the songs from Frozen.”
“For some reason that totally escapes me, my mother loves that film and I lay semi-conscious in bed, unable to fucking object to her playing it over and over. And singing. Badly.”
“Maybe she was trying to irritate you.”
“So what’s your excuse?”
“One of the squats had kids and I got paid to babysit so I played the songs on my laptop. Over and over. When I found myself humming them with the kids nowhere in sight, I moved squats.”
Tay laughed.
“Calm again now? Got used to it?”
“I’m calm. Not sure about used to it.”
Tay felt the tip of the finger slip in and out and if Ink hadn’t been holding on to him, he’d have levitated—or bolted. Whichever was easier. Tay closed his eyes as the pressure increased until Ink was fucking him with his whole finger, then came one slight change in angle and he saw sparks.
“Fuuuck!”
“Say hello to your prostate,” Ink whispered.
“Hello, prostate. Pleased to…oh fuck…”
Tay lost speech, lost control, lost everything. He writhed against Ink as they both cried out, voices loud, their bodies finally surrendering to pleasure.
They lay together in a sticky, slippery mess, unable to speak, while their hearts bounced around in their chests.
I’ve missed so much. But if that was what it took for this to happen with Ink, he was glad.
CUTTING INK’S HAIR PROVED TO be stressful for both of them. Ink flinched at every snip, noisily exhaled when hair fluttered to the floor and Tay fretted that not only might he make a mess of this, he might snip Ink with the sharp scissors.
Ink sighed as a clump of hair fell to his knee. “A trim, you said, remember?”
“That’s all I’m doing. Oops.”
“Noooo. No oops. Oops are not allowed.”
“It was only a little oops.”
“Hmm. Apart from your horse, have you ever done this before?”
“I cut Jonty’s once.”
The slight tension of Ink’s shoulders was hardly perceptible, but Tay caught it. He didn’t know whether it was a good thing that Ink was jealous or not.
“I dyed Alison’s hair once too.”
“When did she start speaking to you again?”
“Very funny. She gave me ten quid so I must have done a good job. Okay. That’s it. Cutting done. Sit still while I mix the dye.”
“Can I check in the mirror?”
“No. It might look better when it’s purple.”
Ink growled. “You’re such a bastard. Read the instructions twice and wear gloves. We don’t want to end up looking like I fell into a container of sprinkles and you held me down.”
It didn’t take long to apply the dye. Ink looked up at him with his foamy hair sticking up all over the place and Tay’s heart leapt with longing.
Tay read the instructions again. “Thirty minutes.”
“Was that thirty minutes from when you started to put the colour on or thirty minutes after you stopped massaging it in?”
“Shit. I don’t know. How long was I massaging it?”
“I don’t know. You got this dreamy look on your face as if you’d finally found your niche in life.”
Tay glowered. “Rinse it off at eleven. It’ll be fine.” He stripped off the plastic gloves. “I need to go and move my car from the garage so the guys can put the stuff from London in there.”
“Get them to carry your cases upstairs. Save us struggling.”
“Stay out of sight once they get here. Just in case.”
Tay shut Dog in the house when he went to the garage. The last time he’d driven his car had been the morning of the day Brad Greene had pushed him from the ladder. His dad had told him he’d taken the car