The shrill sound of the phone woke Brice with a start. He reached for it then realized something, or rather someone, was between it and him and smiled. His good mood increased incrementally as he leaned across Faolán to answer and got a kiss on the shoulder when he did. Then it plummeted when a rough voice on the phone said without preamble, "I do hope you and the young one had an enjoyable evening. It will be your last." The caller immediately hung up.
Brice shuddered, sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees as he stared blindly at the far wall. He remembered the voice. Fear and panic roiled through him. He shuddered again.
“It was him, wasn’t it,” Faolán said, as he too sat, so he could put his arms around Brice.
“Yes,” Brice whispered. Then he drew in a deep breath to say, with much more firmness and resolve, “It was, and that is the last time I’m going to let him get to me, the bastard!” His eyes landed on the bedside clock and he continued wryly, “My director on the other hand scares the shit out of me so, unfortunately, I have to get up and moving.”
“We have to,” Faolán told him. He released his hold but not before he kissed Brice quite thoroughly. “That should hold us for a little while, anyway,” he said then swatted Brice’s ass. “Move it.”
Brice arched an eyebrow. “Giving orders?”
“Thought it was my turn to,” Faolán replied with a smirk. “Turn about and all that.”
“Boy…” Brice growled. Then he scooted off the bed with a laugh to avoid Faolán’s attempt to swat him again. As he did, he suddenly realized that, despite the trouble hanging over their heads, he hadn’t had this much fun with—or pleasure from—another man in longer than he could remember. He looked at Faolán, his eyes alive with emotion. "This time, maybe I’ve found the one I’ve been looking for."
Faolán smiled. "Perhaps we both have."