The knock came again, harder this time, and a familiar voice cut through the thin bathroom door.
“Migos? Are you in there? I’ve been looking all over this place for you.”
His wife.
Migos’s eyes snapped open. He pulled off Daemon’s c**k with a wet, filthy sound, come still leaking down the inside of his thighs.
In one smooth motion he yanked his jeans up, tucked his half-hard d**k away, and zipped.
He shoved Daemon farther into the corner behind the door, palm flat against the younger man’s chest, a silent order to stay quiet and stay hidden.
Daemon’s jeans were still around his ankles; he scrambled to pull them up just as Migos unlocked the door and stepped out, pulling it shut behind him.
He caught his wife by the elbow and steered her down the narrow hallway, away from the bath
