Art was consciously trying not to compare this to his intimacy with his wife, because guilt was — not a turn-on — but for a second as Selwyn stroked him all he could think was she would never do this.

The thought left him almost as soon as it arrived, because Selwyn was pushing him onto the bed and it was entirely too easy to just focus on the man in front of him. He'd given up so much of his control in this situation on purpose, it was entirely arousing, and Selwyn very clearly knew what he was doing and that was arousing too.

"Ohh," Art breathed, reaching one hand up to tangle his fingers in Selwyn's hair. The nervousness that had ebbed and flowed ever since he realized he was out of practice was almost entirely gone — the world had effectively narrowed to this party, this bed, and Selwyn's mouth on him. He ran his other hand over Selwyn's shoulder. This moment of preparation was necessary for this to be good, but it also had Art's impatience renewed. And — he wasn't sure if Selwyn would find this arousing or not, some people didn't, but he'd seemed to like it when Art asked him to fuck him so — "Please."

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   Emrys Selwyn