Billy kept smiling, now against Goody's mouth. He let his touch linger, and then, triumphantly, pulled away from Goody's touch. It was a struggle to do. He wanted nothing more than to have Goodnight's hands on his skin, to taste his mouth. But, at some point, they had to move this to the bed.

The bed was narrow, but not the most narrow space they'd shared before. Billy shed his pants and remained in his shorts and socked feet, sprawling across the bed invitingly.

His skin was a map of scars, but no more than Goodnight's was. He admired how he looked, disheveled and desirable, and crooked a finger at him to coax him over and join him.