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Summary
Like this, though, he feels it; a pleasant prickle under his skin. There’s a high in how Whitaker’s eyes grazed over his abdomen, almost pathetic in their want.He gets to have this.
Langdon eyed him down again, took in the blonde peach fuzz on his built arms, the way his tendons danced under his skin as he fiddled with his fingers.
Huh.
He’s got something the new golden boy wants.
—
Or, Langdon lets Whitaker take a look at his chest hair, hoping to preen in the face of Whitaker's gender envy. He gets more than he could've ever anticipated.
