"Oh yes, I've fallen hopelessly in love with a half-mad psychic in a gas-mask," laughed Simon. "You know I'm married to my work, my dear boy - you've said it yourself. And business is just beautiful here - but at the moment, let's not mix it with pleasure?"
He disentangled himself and stepped back to pull Roger's shirt off his shoulders, then wrapped himself around again, rucking the other man's undershirt up and resting one hand on his belly, fingertips barely tucked into his trousers.