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Fat bi sex singer did straight boys naked speak, only smiled very slightly, and carried on tapping the keys with fast, deft fingers. Marc closed the door and stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt, rummaging in his holdall for fresh underwear and clean t-shirt. He pulled them on casually before coming over to slump down on the bed beside the lean, naked Englishman. For a while he lay with his damp head cradled in the crook of one arm, watching the way Rayne's fine, sable hair tumbled forward in delicate fronds, framing his fine, angular, alabaster features. His sensuous mouth was relaxed, the full, bloodless lips slightly parted as he hummed naked straight boys inaudibly to the song playing in his headphones. Occasionally he smiled to himself as the keys clicked softly under his fingertips. His teeth were small, perfect ivory pearls in the pink, lush warmth of his mouth. The memory of those soft, warm lips wrapped around the shaft of his cock, sucking hard, got Marc semi-erect again, in spite of the cold water. He rolled himself quickly onto his belly to hide the conspicuous bulge in the crotch of his pants. Almost absently, Rayne's left hand moved off the keys and the backs of his fingers stroked Marc's wet hair; a brief, tender, affectionate gesture which brought a smile to his mortal companion's lips. Even with the air conditioning turned up full it was fat bi sex in here and finally Marc pushed up the hem of his t-shirt to his ribs, considering that Rayne had the right idea. The Englishman's fingers caressed the exposed flesh of his bare back responsively, although he carried on typing with his right hand as if this was something he did every day of his life. His aqueous, peridot gaze was intent and preoccupied; long black, girlish lashes almost fanning his ashen cheeks as he worked. Through the ragged tumble of his near-shoulder length mane, his tip-tilted nose protruded slightly, adding to the elfin sexiness of his appearance. At last, Marc tired of being ignored and tugged on one of the dangling wires which trailed down from his hair. Those enquiring eyes met his own again, silently. "What are you listening to?" the boy wanted to know. Rayne Wylde reached up to his left cute bi sex and removed the small, black nodular headphone. Gently, he swept Marc's damp hair back from his neck and put the miniature amplifier into his ear. At once, David Bowie's dulcet, gravelly tones sang; "I've fat bi sex putting out the fire with gasoline.....