Page 67 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

He shed his shirt completely.

Then the scene shifted, the camera lowering, following the long lines of him as he walked through the room.

Furi stretched his long, lean body across the black satin sheets on the bed, enclosed within a canopy of sheer black curtains, the fabric falling around him in smoky panels.

The silk pants were removed after, handled with the same slow restraint.

The camera lingered over his back, on the curve and strength of his spine. Furi exhaled, deep and raw, the sound gritty enough that Syn wanted to put his fist through the screen.

That sound belonged in their bed, against his mouth.

Furi rolled slowly, arched and shifted with sensualness. The moans were quieter at first. Breathy. Then deeper. Rougher.

The camera panned down his left hip.

Syn went still.

There, in bold, beautiful typography, inked into Furi’s skin like a vow, was his tattoo.

So Full of Syn.

Syn had kissed, bitten, held, and claimed those words.

That was his fucking name.

Syn’s breath turned harsh as he flattened his hands on the counter to keep from punching the laptop until it was small pieces of nothing.

Those words had been a filthy, sweet joke Furi had said after a long night of passion, then turned it into ink.

Syn had pretended to be exasperated when he’d seen it, then had spent half the night caressing it with devotion. He loved that tattoo because it was outrageous, possessive, tender, and so completely Furi.

Now it was part of goddamn porn video.

Syn forced himself to keep watching.

He didn’t know why. Punishment, maybe. Evidence. The cop in him needing the whole scene before he rendered judgment.

Furi’s performance built in an easy passionate rhythm.

Those talented fingers were wrapped around his thick cock. His grip was firm as he stroked, slow and steady, sliding his hand from the base all the way up to the swollen head.

His long legs were spread wide, one knee bent and laid to the side, opening him up so the dark hole between his cheeks peeked out, the tight ring clenching slightly with each pump of his fist. Each stroke making his shaft twitch, pre-cum leaking from the tip and coating his fingers.

He pumped faster, hips rocking forward sensually, like some exotic dancer.

Syn sat frozen as the scene reached its end.

Furi twisted his fingers in the soft linen. His beautiful hair spilled across the side of his face, and his mouth opened on a deep, guttural moan that Syn knew too well.

Then he heard it on a single breath.

Barely audible, but no doubt in his mind, Furi sighed his name.

Syn.

Whispered it the way he did when he was buried so deep inside Syn he saw stars.

The video ended, panning away from the come spread across Furi’s abs.