You had to expect that I would pick part of Into the Fire, didn't you?
"I seriously didn't need to see this," Mozz said. He wanted to turn away but--but couldn't. He was weak in the face of temptation. He had fallen to the sheer sexual magnetism of his own personal Adonis, damn the Greeks and all their tragedies.
And Neal was like an Adonis, even just from the waist down. There was a sculpted, ethereal quality to him, one that Mozz had always found captivating. That being said, Mozz didn't think Adonis had ever spent an afternoon in a t-shirt and nothing else, staring at his own dick in his living room mirror.
"I needed to check something," Neal said absently. He lifted his cock to look at the underside and Mozz drew in a sharp, pointed breath--even flaccid it did something strange and painful to his insides, made something in him keen.
"And you didn't lock the door first because?"
"It was urgent." Neal flicked the thing again, almost unthinkingly, and Mozz was actually going crazy, this was some kind of insane dream--
"What," he said, hoping he was keeping his voice even, "could possibly have been so urgent that taking the time to lock the door was impossible?"
Neal waved a hand. "Did you know," he said, "that sometimes people don't realize they have skin cancer because the first signs are--" he gestured broadly at the area Mozz could not seem to look away from. "I wanted to be sure."
"You don't have skin cancer, Neal," Mozzie said, wearily. "I'm sorry I ever told you about all the poisons they put in our food, okay?"
"I thought you said paranoia was healthy," Neal replied, quirking an eyebrow, and god, the bastard was making a point. He'd probably planned this, sneaky smirky little shit. Mozz bit back a scream of frustration and told Neal to get dressed, finally forced himself to drag his eyes to the ceiling, and vowed to avoid pissing the man off in the future.
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Date: 2010-05-12 02:06 am (UTC)"I seriously didn't need to see this," Mozz said. He wanted to turn away but--but couldn't. He was weak in the face of temptation. He had fallen to the sheer sexual magnetism of his own personal Adonis, damn the Greeks and all their tragedies.
And Neal was like an Adonis, even just from the waist down. There was a sculpted, ethereal quality to him, one that Mozz had always found captivating. That being said, Mozz didn't think Adonis had ever spent an afternoon in a t-shirt and nothing else, staring at his own dick in his living room mirror.
"I needed to check something," Neal said absently. He lifted his cock to look at the underside and Mozz drew in a sharp, pointed breath--even flaccid it did something strange and painful to his insides, made something in him keen.
"And you didn't lock the door first because?"
"It was urgent." Neal flicked the thing again, almost unthinkingly, and Mozz was actually going crazy, this was some kind of insane dream--
"What," he said, hoping he was keeping his voice even, "could possibly have been so urgent that taking the time to lock the door was impossible?"
Neal waved a hand. "Did you know," he said, "that sometimes people don't realize they have skin cancer because the first signs are--" he gestured broadly at the area Mozz could not seem to look away from. "I wanted to be sure."
"You don't have skin cancer, Neal," Mozzie said, wearily. "I'm sorry I ever told you about all the poisons they put in our food, okay?"
"I thought you said paranoia was healthy," Neal replied, quirking an eyebrow, and god, the bastard was making a point. He'd probably planned this, sneaky smirky little shit. Mozz bit back a scream of frustration and told Neal to get dressed, finally forced himself to drag his eyes to the ceiling, and vowed to avoid pissing the man off in the future.