It's a test, really. All of this is a test. Every single line pushed past, every barrier that comes down; until he knows, it's a test.

But maybe he's having trouble holding onto that.

"Good," he says, soft again. Tom's dick is hot in his palm, twitching slightly when he strokes it all the way down to the root, the tip leaking a slick trail onto his wrist. He wants, so suddenly and so violently that it almost makes him gasp, to go down on his knees, take it in his mouth, taste.

So he kisses Tom to make it stop. It seems like the thing to do.