Bare It All

Victor was sitting on a sofa, holding a glass of whisky. The fingers of his other hand were gripping the blond hair of a man, whose head was between Victor's legs.
But Victor didn't care. Everything felt numb. And yet, he still couldn't get him out of his head.
And suddenly, there he was. Or maybe just a fata morgana.
Victor pushed the man away but didn't move. His penis was now half-hard and exposed.
Henry was watching him, probably contemplating the same thing.
Should he? Should they?
Soon their lips and bodies were colliding, trying to satisfy their thirst.