The morning after.

 

Ethan yawned and stretched; his movements languid and graceful—catlike. A dreamy smile curved the corners of his mouth as he allowed the events of the previous night to play across his mind. A soft snore broke him out of his reverie and he rolled onto his side to watch his companion sleep. Relaxed in sleep the other man’s face was gentle, sweet even and Ethan reached out to gently brush a stray curl from his lover’s brow. 

There had been nothing ‘sweet’ about their encounter; rather it had been filled with passion, fire, raw unmitigated need and a delectable hint of danger. Ripper was nothing if not inventive, Ethan mused. His hand drifted lazily downwards trailing across his stomach before closing around his aching cock and stroking firmly. His eyes drifted closed and his breathing quickened.  

Fingers clamped firmly around his wrist, their steely grip arresting his movements and robbing him of his release even as a deep sultry voice hinted of greater pleasure to be had. 

“Now, now.  You wouldn’t be starting without me would you, lover?”