At the room, Asher had locked it from the inside, not letting anyone come in. He wanted his privacy; his thoughts were spiraling out of control.
He had let his guard down so much that now he was dependent on Xavier—something he didn't like at all.
Previously, he was a straight man. Someone who didn't do any "gay shit," as he had once called it. He wasn't homophobic, but he couldn't bring himself to think of getting fucked by a man—his fellow man.
But look at the turn of things. He wasn't just bent over but fucked in a position that wasn't merely thrilling—it was surprisingly enjoyable. And he was shamelessly yearning for more. Now, back to the questions he had asked in the car: he hadn't forgotten how he was treated. For fuck's sake, he had opinions.
Why wouldn't Xavier let him speak? Why was he shunned and avoided? Yet when it came to satisfying his own curiosity, Xavier always found a way to make Asher answer—through his weak spot. But now, Asher felt he would be avoided again.
