“Oh, f**k yes, sir, please,” Chris babbles, the hot flickering pressure of Adam’s tongue on his hole coupled with Adam’s hand around his c**k making him tremble and buck his hips.
Chris gasps and writhes as Adam licks with the flat of his tongue, long, wet swipes against Chris’s hole until Chris is loose and wet and sloppy and Adam can press in with his tongue. He hums against Chris’s skin as he does, his fist lazily jerking Chris’s c**k.
Chris scrabbles his hands against the mats, trying to get a grip on anything other than the tempting fall of Adam’s dark hair, and when he looks down, reconsidering, Adam lifts his face from Chris’s skin. His lips are red and swollen, shiny with spit, and he’s breathing just as heavily as Chris is.
“Next time you’re going to sit on my face,” Adam says.
