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And as he did the math, Artair just kept looking at him—enjoying how badly this was going.
Luca cleared his throat, the focused stare somehow making his dick even harder beneath his shirt. “Are you going to turn around?”
“But then I’ll miss the show!” Artair said with an adorable pout.
“Fifty percent, Artair!”
“Fine,” he said, turning around with an exaggerated sigh.
Luca jammed the shorts back on—the waistband straining at the thickest part of his ass, not helped by his trunk-hard cock, which was yanking the fabric on the other side.
“You’re uncut,” said Artair, still facing away.
“And you’re cut.”
“It suits you, you know? Matches the heft you’ve got going on down there.”
“Can we please not talk about my cock?”
“Oh? Given how much you show it off, I thought you wanted me to comment?”
“Please. Like you can talk.”
“You’re right. I’m just as bad. Should I get mine out and we can compare?”
“Artair!”
Artair raised his hands in surrender, his shoulders shaking from laughter. “Okay, okay! I’ll stop. But you’ve got to admit, we’re making a habit of this.”
Now dressed, Luca stomped to the door, scowling when he came within eyeshot. The man was grinning just as widely as he’d expected.
Part of him wanted to be mad at how the guy was deliberately making this situation as awkward as possible. But it was a difficult feeling to maintain when his dick was this hard, and the man’s smile was so damn contagious, and Bowie skulked over and gave his knee an apologetic lick.
“Naaaw,” said Artair. “See, he’s sorry he stole your shorts, and he promises that he’ll never do it again!”
“If he’s friends with you, I doubt he can keep that promise.”
“Hey, it wasn’t like I trained him to do that!” said Artair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Although, it would make another killer pickup technique.”
“As good as your thumb in the belt loop one?”
“What? You mean like this?”
“No! Stop it!” barked Luca—which only made Artair grin wider. Hunting for some piece of normal among the absurd, Luca pointed at the bag full of twigs at his waist. “Are you that hard up for firewood?”
“Nah. I was out foraging when Bowie came back with your shorts. That’s how I got here before you. There are some really good spots near the tower. See, just look at all this bling!”
Luca stared at the bag’s contents—the absolute opposite of bling. There was a collection of little leaves and some flowers still covered in dirt at the roots. The bottom was full of small and unappetizing berries, colored a pale orange and half squashed. “What is all that... stuff?”
“Let’s see. We’ve got salmonberries. Fiddlehead ferns. Morel mushrooms. That’s lemon balm over there. And there’s a bunch of other things I’m pretty sure aren’t poisonous.”
“How sure is pretty sure?”
“Seventy percent?”
“Those aren’t great odds.”
“Yeah, but think of the excitement as we wait to find out!”
