“Oh, look at you,” Tom purred. He curled his hand around Gabe’s cock—not stroking, just holding it gently. Gabe rocked into it once, and then went boneless again, though each breath exhaled on a soft whimper of need. “That’s it, you’re just perfect,” Tom told Gabe. “You’re going to let me take care of you now, huh?”
“Yes, Tom, please,” Gabe breathed. “‘M yours, all yours, please please please please, oh, God.”
Tom stroked him, and instead of arching into it, Gabe just moaned in pleasure. God, he was gorgeous like this. Tom almost couldn’t resist giving him what he was begging for, but he wanted to hold it out just a little longer. Another stroke, two, and then he stopped.
Gabe keened at the ache of it, but didn’t protest. More tears leaked from his eyes, even as he locked his gaze on Tom’s face.
Tom lifted his other hand to brush the tears from Gabe’s cheeks. “So good,” he told Gabe. “So sweet and beautiful. Just a little more for me, okay?”