Research involving his own psyche, and an addiction called Bells.

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He was hungry and thirsty, but all he could focus his mind on was the man awaiting him in that apartment.

Bad as it was, the threat of reprisals for his poor performance today couldn't totally dampen his enthusiasm for the gunwhore.

Suffling the papers to his other arm, he was about to place his hand on the door lock when the door opened to reveal...

A slim body clad in nothing but a black leather harness, pants and gunbelt.  A harness that clung to the nicely muscled chest in black bands that contrasted with smooth skin.  Jessman's eyes went bright with lust, his already hard cock jumped as his gaze fueled his desire to a feverish heat.  The harness, the pants and the gun made an erotic picture that took the man's breath away, and stole the last few shreds of rationality left to him.  It was too much, hid too much.

Revealed even more.

A sudden shower of white cascaded to the floor, Jessman staring at the vision before him, body gone hot with lust and memories that drove the last lingering doubts from his mind.  Yes, last night had been as real as that morning in the shower.

And he'd been promised more.

Like a man enmeshed in a dream, a sleepwalker with no control of his actions, Jessman took a step closer to the gunwhore, arms reaching for what he wanted.

Illusive as mist, the smaller man danced out of his reach to turn when he had the coffee table between them.  "Pick up the mess you've made."

Jessman blinked.  "What?"  The papers from work were the farthest thing from his mind.  Even if his erection hadn't shown which head was in control of the dark-haired man's thoughts, his confused expression certainly did.

Bells laughed, the sound soft and low.  "You're really out of it, aren't you?" he asked the taller man as he hopped over the coffee table.  Glancing at the scattering of paperwork, the cobalt gaze lifting to the man's face, his lust-dazed expression.  A slight smile played at the corners of the blond's lips and he reached up to caress Jessman's cheek, his hand feeling cool to the passion-heated researcher.

From his cheek to his hair was a small move, carried out quickly, the fingers taking a firm grip.

A gasp was torn from Jessman's mouth, the hand in his hair forcing him down.  He was so lost, wrapped in desire, lashed by the tiny kiss of pain that he craved that he went to his knees without any hesitation.

His dark gaze was on Bell's face, searching for any sign of what he should do, what was expected of him now.  He was new to the game they were playing, a game that was more compelling than any simvid, and person real or created by a computer and piped into his mind via thoughtlink.