He steps back to give him room and stares down. Tom's cock is jutting up between his thighs, first time he's really seen it properly, it feels like, hard and glistening and darkly flushed. He's glad he's tied Tom's hands. It prevents him from doing certain things to himself.

But like this he can also see his face, and the look on it, the pleading, the sheer, achingly open trust... It brings all the gentleness back. He reaches out with one hand and slowly combs his fingers through hair that's damp with sweat. With the other hand he fumbles the button of his jeans open and starts to pull his zipper down.

"God, I love your mouth," he breathes, smudging his thumb against swollen lips.