At this point, disputing the existence of some higher power seems foolish, because surely it's only by the grace of said being that Danny's pants are still up without that belt. I wasn't even aware that they made jeans for men with a rise that low. It a perfect cut if you have a lower ab V to flaunt, which he does...

The sudden sting from the belt snaps me out of a daze and staring. Luckily, before I have a chance to blurt out something derogatory about the woman who gave birth to him as a knee-jerk reaction, I'm once again distracted by his jeans without even needing to look down at them.

"I thought you said you kept your collection in you room," I say, feigning confusion and slipping a hand between us to rub the front of his pants. "Keep a roll of Kennedy half dollars on you, do you?" I ask, pausing for a moment to reconsider, head tilting slightly. "Two rolls."