As if reading Lyle’s lack of concern as the ‘f**k, no’ that it was, Rafe pulled Lyle’s hips closer to him and side-by-side they sucked each other. Rafe’s lips were full, his throat deep, his tongue slick, and his talent perfect. None of it had the effect that Rafe’s soft, eager noises did, though. They were breathed out in pants against Lyle’s skin, they trembled and resounded over Lyle’s c**k, and they rang like choirs in his ears. They were exciting. They were exhilarating. They made Lyle’s mind, body, and soul rise to the highest pinnacle they’d ever managed to climb to, and then they told Lyle that he was not only good, he was a f*****g god when it came to oral s*x. It didn’t matter if it was true; what mattered was the way Rafe clung to him, responded to him, and begged him in indecip
