Tom breathed in deeply through his nose and reached out for Mike like it was defiant, an act of rebellion, and slid his hand inside of Mike's pants. This was all it too fucked up, too tragic, but it felt good, all pain, all exhaustion, and glimmering around the edges like a runner's high.

He bit the palm of Mike's hand, swallowing moans, and pushed his hips forward. All for the moment: now.