019

Wait

"Stephen." Bry's breath is hot against his jaw. Fingers curl like talons around his shoulders.

"Not yet," Stephen whispers. Bry makes a desperate, throaty sound and thrusts into the circle of Stephen's hands.

"Stephen." He presses open-mouthed kisses to Stephen's neck, drags his tongue down the slope of muscle. He scrapes his teeth across Stephen's clavicle and bites. Nails claw at sweat-slick skin as Bry squirms in Stephen's lap, pulls him deeper inside, clenches his buttocks and causes Stephen to forget his name, age, and entire history for the span of five seconds.

Stephen gasps, grinds his hips upward slowly, deliberately, and grits out, "Not. Yet."