by Jane Davitt

Danny's pinned to the bed by the push and lap of Steve's tongue against his hole. He feels heavy, melting, the effort needed to spread his legs, arch his ass higher, almost beyond him, but if he doesn't, Steve will pause to reposition him and Steve can't stop because if he does, Danny will be forced to beg him to continue, shameless in his need.

The rough rub of Steve's thumb over the spit-wet skin he's been working with his tongue breaks him and Danny's begging, his voice hoarse, even when Steve's licking him again he doesn't, can't, stop begging.

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