Words proved much less necessary after that – how could Nick protest to that request?( In the back of his mind, there was something terrible about following him to his bed – as if there would have been some plausible deniability anywhere else, as if the sofa or the table or the floor would have reminded him this was as sordid as it was. On King’s bed, it felt oddly – natural,  normal, not the wrong that it should have.)

By the time they were horizontal, Nick was already breathless and half-hard in his impatience to untuck King’s shirt from his trousers, fumbling keenly with his buttons as his mouth moved towards the base of King’s neck and downwards still, the more skin that he exposed.

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