He times the length of it carefully. Long enough that by the time he breaks it they're both breathing hard, short enough that he's aching for more, pressing against the inside of his jeans, and he knows it has to be worse for Hobbes.

Perfect.

Slowly he moves back, gaze falling over the lines of Tom's body, up and down. It's easier to see with him this close. He's looking at him like he's never seen him before, like this is new. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, reaching up and slowly tracing Tom's collarbone with his fingers.