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It felt like hours that he made Robert wait there, on his knees at the foot of the bed. Bound, blind, and achingly hard. He hadn't managed to hang on to his composure long, after Vahid had walked away, leaving the ghost of warmth in his wake. Robert strained, trying to hear what he was doing, trying to mentally map where he must be from the sound of his soft footsteps.
'By the dresser. Past the dresser. Off the carpet, I can hear his feet on the tile. What's he doing in the kitchen? Is that the game tonight, to make me wait?'
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