“Ba—buddy, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Jesus, Tadder, I’m so fucked up.”
Tadder? Oh, he liked that! Could he get Rush to call him that more frequently?
Tad put his arms around him and held him. A good seven inches taller, he liked the way Rush fit in his arms, liked the warm breath that stroked his skin above the open collar of his shirt, liked the feel of Rush’s hair under his chin.
“It can’t be that bad.” He was pleased that Rush didn’t seem to be in any hurry to step away from him. In fact—was Rush leaning into him?
“You wanna bet?”
“Tell me what happened.” He was reallyenjoying the feel of Rush in his arms, and he angled his lower body away so Rush wouldn’t know how hard he was.
“You’re gonna think I’m such a... a wuss, such a baby.” His shoulders slumped, his forehead rested against Tad’s shoulder, and he began rubbing his stomach again.
“I don’t think so, babe.” Oh, shit. It had slipped out that time. Maybe Rush wouldn’t notice? “C’mon. Spill.”