Copper Script

by K.J. Charles

There was nothing erotic about the prosthetic. There was everything erotic about Aaron’s silent concentration, his hands on Joel’s skin, carefully tending to every strap and buckle in turn. Joel breathed through it, enjoying each loosening, and found himself almost sorry there were only four. He pulled the prosthetic’s cup off his stump, and tossed it onto the table. He didn’t quite want to see whether Aaron was looking at the stump or avoiding doing so. “Better?” “Less likely to snag, anyway.” He pushed the rucked-up shirtsleeve down again. “I might keep my shirt on, though. For now.” Aaron cupped the back of his head, tugging him over so they were body to body again. “Whatever makes you comfortable.” “On which subject,” Joel said, slipping his hand round Aaron’s arse again, tilting his hips. “Shall we both get rather more comfortable?” He felt breath ruffle his hair. “I would like that, but—ugh. I think you probably realise I don’t have a lot of experience. Certainly not as much as you.” “Are you insinuating something, Detective Sergeant?” Joel enquired, mock-huffily. “Habitual bad character?” “Yeah, fair enough.” He very much wanted to pop Aaron Fowler’s cork for him. The question was how to go about that, and he suspected Aaron wouldn’t be much use at saying what he wanted, if he even knew himself. Then again, those careful hands on the buckles... “Well,” he said. “Turnabout is fair play, right?” “Yes?” Aaron said cautiously. “Then I think I deserve a policeman sucking...