[ there’s nothing more thrilling than bringing a brilliant confident man to his knees, rendering him nothing but a litany of sweet sounds and pleases and yes and fuck mes. it’s always been the most pleasant part, watching people fall to shambles by their fun. it’s no different now, with the way matt fucks back on his hand, the way he desperately leaks into his own hand.

oh, to be in two places at once.

but he can’t deny the fact that his own cock aches with unmitigated need, that he’s sore enough that even shifting his weight to the other foot brings with it a throb. but he slides his fingers free of that delicious, warm heat and pushes to his feet on a sigh, grinning at matt in the mirror. he reaches round briefly, swiping at the liquid pearl across his fingers and brings it to his own mouth to taste, humming as he wanders away.

not far, no. instead, he grabs a chair and drags it over in front of Matt, at an angle, though, enough that he can see both his front and just the barest hint of his side were he to lean over it. ]

To your perch, little bird. Will you sing for me there, too, stretched out and pretty? If you sing well I might reward you with something a little more fun, let you make of me your perch.

[ he smoothes his hand up matt’s spine, his mouth falling to his shoulder, kissing his sweetly, but he doesn’t let his cock anywhere near the man’s waiting ass. only if matt complies, braces himself on the chair all lean and long lines will he fit his body up against his. ]

No more touching yourself, either. I’d hate for you to spoil all your fun before I get to enjoy it, too.