Kailith's face dominated Felix's screen like a storm cloud ready to unleash hell, those heavy-lidded eyes locking onto him with the kind of glare that stripped a man bare and left him trembling in the aftermath. Felix yanked the blanket tighter around his naked body, the soft fabric rasping against his overheated skin, his right hand still curled possessively around the rigid, throbbing length of his cock, pulsing with the echoes of strokes he'd been lavishing just minutes ago before that goddamn commercial break shattered his rhythm.

"What the hell do you want?" Felix snapped, irritation sizzling through his veins like liquid fire, scorching away the languid pleasure he'd been riding. He hadn't expected this—Kailith calling mid-debate, not when the man's world revolved around cameras and crowds and crushing opponents. That's why he'd timed the pic for the debate's kickoff, a deliberate barb to ruffle those pristine feathers, to leave him hot and hard and distracted right there on stage, squirming under the lights while his rivals droned on.