Feeling it makes him realize how much, how fucking much he's wanted it. He keeps one hand against the back of Tom's skull and drops his own head back, eyes fluttering half-closed as a groan works its way up his throat. It's good. It always is, has been since the beginning, even when Tom was new at it and a little clumsy, but so goddamn eager.

Tom's taking a moment and he lets him take it, feeling the heat surge up under his ribcage as he holds him there, gentle and deeply firm.

"Yeah," he breathes, a little strained. "Fuck, that's it."