He remembered what Alan had said about weight and claiming; he adjusted position, made sure he was lying squarely on top. The sparkle in Alan’s eyes suggested delight at this.
Arthur cradled his head in one hand and kissed him some more. Alan arched up against him, bodies moving together, hips colliding.
Arthur asked, between kisses, “Was that what you were thinking? Feeling me, like this?” He could do this forever.
“More or less.” Alan wriggled under him. “If you don’t want me moving too much…which I am entirely on board with, or in bed with, by the way…could you do something for us?”
“Anything. What?”
Alan snuck a hand between their bodies—Arthur wasn’t sure how, given the lack of space, but Alan’s hands were very gifted—and found Arthur’s length and hardness, and stroked. And then
