“Yeah, well, tell them that. Men from families like mine aren’t gay, and if they are, no one talks about it. If I’d gotten caught in public with a boy, they would have thrown money at it until the scandal got buried. It made my hormonal years both stifling and exhilarating. All that forbidden fruit, just begging me to take a bite. I had more sex in the back corridors and hidden nooks of our house than I ever had in my bedroom, all while my parents were just a room away. It was such a high.”

“Were you ever caught?”

“I was nearly caught once a week, and every single time, I came so hard I couldn’t stand up afterward.”

Zack had to bite his lip to keep from making a sound as arousal engulfed him. He swallowed thickly and said, “Tell me about the boys you hooked up with. Did they all work for your family?”

“Most of them, yes. Some of them were boys I went to school with. I attended private schools my entire life, full of children with families just like mine. But every now and then there would be a scholarship student or a nouveau riche boy. I could never resist them. But the majority of my early lovers worked on the estate with their parents.”

“Jesus,” Zack said, “I’m pretty sure I read the back of a romance novel once that had that exact premise.”

“I know,” John said. “If I were straight, they would have made a Lifetime movie about me.”

“Or a porno.”

Zack heard John shift, and the sound sent a jolt of heat through him. At first he wasn’t sure why, but then he remembered that John usually shifted around a bit right before they got started. It was ridiculous how such a simple movement could arouse him. He was beginning to understand how Pavlov’s dogs must have felt. John had him trained to react to the smallest things, and it made the whole situation that much more intense.

Zack wet his lips. “Want to hear some more of my idea?”

“Please.”

Zack got back into character and said, “It would happen gradually and yet all at once. One day you’d wake up and realize you couldn’t stop thinking about me. You’d try to fight it, but you’d find yourself spending more and more time in the stables. Your parents would praise you for your dedication, but you’d know the truth. You just want to watch me, watch my rough hands as they work, my nimble fingers tying knots, and my muscles flexing as I muck out the stalls.