Tommy snorted. "I'm not. I think that only one of us allowed to whine and bitch and that's me. You have no reason to complain. Look at the way you're built. You're a fucking wall of muscles. You like half of the shit we do, and you have a partner that looks at you like she wants to take you home and feed you all the time."
He bit his lip, trying not to laugh, but then he gave up. "Sorry, Ollie, but that's as much action as I've seen since getting here. I'll take what I can get, man."
Tommy cringed at the last part. "Now, that you can bitch about and I will support you a hundred percent." He lay down again, eyes wondering over Oliver's body again. He hesitated a moment and then touched the scar on his chest. "Does it hurt? Do you feel anything?"