Frustrated, ashamed, but still so excited by Dubois’s flesh, Joe lay back.
“It’s all right,” Dubois whispered, resting his head in the nook of Joe’s arm. It was the dead of the night, and though they should have been resting, instead, they’d been rolling around like mad dogs, under the covers―yet nothing had come of it.
“I hurt you, didn’t I?” Joe had heard Dubois’s cry, the pain Dubois had tried muffling inside the pillow when he’d pushed himself inside him, and he’d had to stop. Their bodies didn’t fit. He couldn’t possess Dubois the way he needed to. Couldn’t take him that way.
“We don’t have the proper—the necessary―”
“Do we have to talk about it? Just go back to your bunk.” But if Dubois obeyed him, Joe would hate him.
“I will not,” Dubois snapped back, like a child.
Joe sigh ou
