Sebastian flung his hands up. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.”

“What about you? Any lover on the outside?”

“Nope, a few close friends that are eager to see me, but no lover. No relationship to salvage. I didn’t have time for that.”

“What did you spend your time doing then?”

Sebastian smacked his lips together. “Getting money.”

“Money?”

“It was all about making money, lots of it.”

“And did you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sebastian smirked, “I’m sorted for money.”

“Dirty money?” Rory whispered.

Sebastian leaned closer. “Absolutely filthy. Now come on, you missed lunch, you can’t miss dinner, too.”

“Are you asking me or telling?”

“Without a doubt, telling. Get downstairs and eat, and then we can play chess.”

****

Rory laid in bed and waited patiently for Sebastian’s cue. His heart beat harder and faster the longer he had to wait, and he did all he could to calm his breathing. Rory never knew when it was going to happen, but he was always ready, always hard, always listening intently to the bed below.

He didn’t know whether it was a Vaseline night, or not.

Sebastian was impossible to predict, but Rory longed for the nights he got out of bed, offered the Vaseline tub, then disappeared from view. Those nights were relief, and his cock ached with anticipation every time.

They stroked themselves at the same time, and Sebastian’s exotic gasps, and grunts went straight to Rory’s cock. He didn’t last long, would’ve been embarrassed, but Sebastian didn’t last much longer than him. It was purely physical, a release of tension and pent up frustration. Rory needed it, and that was how he justified jerking off with Sebastian Claw.

“Night, Rory.”

He closed his eyes and scrunched the sheet in his hands. It wasn’t a Vaseline night, and the alternative was worse. Rory had to convince his cock to go down. He had to ignore the fact Sebastian was laying underneath, naked. He had to lie in the dark and not think about how badly he needed to cum, and how Sebastian’s breathing changed when he got closer and closer to orgasm.

It was torturous.

His eyes stung as he stared up at the ceiling, and his fingers went numb clutching the sheet.

It felt like it took hours for his cock to soften, then he sighed, closed his eyes, and drifted off.

****

The room was still dark, and Rory couldn’t understand why he’d woken. He was still tired, and groggy, but his crotch tingled. He blinked in a daze, then froze when he heard it.

The sound of the Vaseline tub being opened, in a very slow, very deliberate manner.

The sound had fed into Rory’s sub-conscious, and gone straight to his cock. The frustration, the ache, it was so intense Rory pressed his lips together not to sob.