While Ryah was eager to get down and do the deed, he was also a little apprehensive about it. It was one thing to sleep with a guy when he'd been drunk, especially when that guy had been Drake, someone he inexplicably trusted. But following a virtual stranger home and fucking him? That felt like a threshold, that felt like an invisible line he was crossing in which there would be no return. If he did this...if he did this...then it simply hadn't been a one-off, it hadn't been him just getting his rocks off and getting laid. It meant--what<i>did</i>it mean? It meant he could no longer hide, it meant he didn't have any excuses any more. If Ryah had had more presence of mind, he probably would have hesitated. He probably would have gone home. Instead, he was letting his hormones, his desire take over.<br/><br/>And though it was far too easy for Ryah to get lost in the sensations, in the knife-sharp pleasure of it all, there was still the tiniest niggling thought at the back of his mind when Eden brought up having roommates. While there was nothing wrong with that, the brunet wasn't feeling inclined to give anyone a show. And it wasn't because they were both guys either. The hunter had always been something of a private person, used to being alone. He mostly kept to himself and in turn, most people left him well enough alone and didn't poke their noses into his business. So the thought of complete strangers possibly walking in on him and Eden? The thought was an unpleasant one.<br/><br/>"Why don't we move this to your bedroom?" he asked, in between devouring Eden's lips, his fingers slipping beneath the blond's shirt, mapping over every inch of smooth skin and taut muscle. A bed would be infinitely more comfortable than the couch, he added, running a hand over Eden's cut-off shorts, feeling the jut of his hipbone. His fingers danced over the blond's zipper, light and teasing.