Sydney stood in the doorway with the lost, confused, and wide-eyed look of a choirboy in hell.
“Mr.Handson said…” his voice trailed off, and Gentry limply dropped his hand.
“Fuck off.” he murmured in grim reply.
“… What are you guys doing in here?”
Sydney boiled for an explanation, yearned for some kind manly denial… anything but what the throbbing feeling in his gut told him was true.
Real men didn’t just… had he seen right? Normal guys didn’t do those things… did they? That was gay.
“Not your business.” Zach shot brazenly, yet pulling away for good measure.
“Leave.” Gentry echoed firmly, pulling him back against him.
Sydney looked them both over, then wordlessly stormed out the door.
Zach sighed in unsteady relief and tensely murmured an apology, his heart throbbing as Gentry slowly looked him over, dark eyes taking in a clenched fist and wary expression. Strong enough to stay, but weak enough to betray fear.
They exchanged anxious, lingering stares, but didn’t say a word as the silence spoke for them. It was hard to talk when your brain and your heart were fighting over your mouth, and the excited ringing in your ears blocked out any coherent thought.
Without a word, Gentry dropped to his knees and hooked his thumbs into the waistline of Zach’s jeans. He undid the belt and fly, tensely listening for the soft, nervous hitch of Zach’s breath. Instead he gave him an awkward shove, only to be forcefully pushed back against the sink.