[God, that stammer is addictive, that cocky attitude slipping just a bit, revealing just how needy and desperate Danny was. As if Corry couldn't tell that by how soaked he is, the way the cloth of his underwear clings like a second skin, the way he shudders all over as Corry's fingers languidly explore. He doesn't move quick or purposefully, doesn't do anything that could get Danny off -- just strokes his fingers over the sodden fabric and enjoys how Danny squirms and shifts under his touch. The urge is definitely there to fill him up, slide a couple fingers inside his soaked cunt and see if he can ride them to completion before they get to the hotel.

But Corry likes this a bit better, likes the build-up, the anticipation. He wants Danny begging. He wants Danny spread out on his bed, sobbing his name, coming on his tongue. So he doesn't move any faster, doesn't let his hand slip beneath that last barrier of fabric. Plus this way he can lean in, find that soft place in Danny's neck where his pulse beats, press his lips to it.]

The right incentive. Like my mouth on you? [Corry drags his tongue over Danny's pulse, nips there gently, just enough to prompt a dull red mark, enjoying how easily the young man bruises.] Ever done that before, Danny? Ever had someone eat you out until you can't move, until you're coming all over their face? Ever fantasized about it?