“You know it’s wrong, and if anyone caught you, it would ruin your life, but all you can think about is dragging me into one of the stalls and fucking in the hay, quick and messy and dirty. You’d be frantic, desperate to get off as fast as possible before anyone could catch us, but I wouldn’t let you. I’d make you beg for it out loud before I let you come. And by the end of it, you wouldn’t care how loud you were being. You wouldn’t care if anyone heard, because all you’d be able to think about was how good it felt to finally give in.”

John made an incoherent noise. Zack was overwhelmed by the desire to touch himself and had to grip his desk to resist it.

“Good?” he asked.

“Perfect,” John answered. “Tell me something, Wesley. Have you ever seen a man in full riding gear?” John’s voice sounded like honey and oil. Zack could almost feel it, as if it were being drizzled on his skin.

He shuddered. “Not up close, no.”

“It’s a sight to behold. I’ve heard people go on and on about how good a well-tailored suit can make a man look, but give me one in a riding coat and jodhpurs any day.”

“What are jodhpurs?”

John snickered. “You’re wearing them right now. They’re tight-fitting riding breeches.”

Zack instinctively flexed his thighs, reveling in the feel of the supple fabric. “You’ve got the tight part right. I wish you could see how these fit me. It’s like someone coated me in black paint.”

“What I wouldn’t give to see that. I have a pair just like them. I’ve worn them so often, they’re practically molded to my body. The thing about riding clothes is they’re the marriage of form and function. Riders must be light and able to move freely, but every line, every shape is designed to be pleasing, to mirror the strength and beauty of the horses. There’s nothing more elegant and yet rugged.”

Zack could picture it vividly: John, with his neat blond hair mussed and his cheeks tinted pink with exertion, elegantly dressed and sitting atop a glossy-coated horse. He’d have a single smudge of dirt on his cheek from wiping it with the back of his hand. Zack had to admit, there was something enrapturing about the contrast.