He broke for a quick bite at a local café where he drank several cups of coffee and did his damnedest not to think about David. He wasn’t very successful. Face it, the guy was completely and irrevocably under his skin. Detoxing was going to be as hard as what any junkie faced quitting their drug of choice. It took almost nothing to make him think of David. A voice in the next booth, a glimpse of swarthy skin and crisp, dark hair. A smoldering look from a total stranger. But even those didn’t move him and he turned away form the odd encounter that he knew would end up in someone’s bed. He didn’t want some nameless, faceless cock up his ass. He wanted David. And he couldn’t have him. Face it. David was out of his life, by his choice. He’d made that more than clear. “Get over yourself,” he muttered as he paid up and slunk back into Pharmaden’s subbasement where he could bury himself in his work.
