[ There's a shocked little gasp, hand wrapped an overly sensitive dick that never seems to feel quite enough, making Dom's head tip upward and close his eyes, mouth open. For a moment he thinks the hand will do it, the same way he thought everything since their first attempt would, heat tight at his core, all-too aware of his length and how hard it is, even more so of the teeth that dig a little harder on the stretched skin of his scar. Dom is moaning before he can help it, something short and sudden, another lazy spill of precome with the sharper pang of pleasure joining the rest. This shouldn't feel good, it should feel humiliating or scary, exposing and offering a scar that he's shamefully kept hidden on so many other occasions, and to a total stranger. ]

Yeah, I think — I think that's working?

[ And if Devon isn't going to move his hand, Dom's going to place his own there, dislodging his fingers to stroke himself, slicked up with the fluid that's been flowing, bit by bit, practically nonstop. Squeezing at the base, then around the crown, palm over the head while his thumb circles the slit, Dom mutters, pained by the delay more than Devon's teeth stinging on his side. ]

Dude, I don't know what I'm gonna do if I can't come. I-I feel like I'm gonna explode.