Michael squints at him, lying back and crawling off him. "You never jack off?" he asks in disbelief, but sighs, gesturing for the front of the home. "My truck, duffel bag side pocket," he instructs, and wriggles a little as he gets comfortable. "Since you're not prepared, you're getting it."

He reaches out for it, unlocks the doors with his mind from where he's lying, but he's already got his shirt off. He's not going anywhere.