TEMPTING THE ENEMY (MM)
He tilted his head toward my pants and murmured, “Might want to do something about that little tent, malishka .”
My whole body locked. My mouth dropped open. I looked down and saw it—the clear outline of my cock straining against the front of my pants, pre-cum already darkening the fabric like a curse.
Kill me.
Just kill me now.
“I—fuck—I’m sorry,” I stammered, trying to turn away, trying to press my palm against myself without making it obvious, trying to disappear into the goddamn floorboards. “I thought—you looked like—Zenya, and I—fuck.”