He feels a little like his skin is trying to turn itself inside out, like something in him is trying to force its way through. He shudders faintly, bites at his bottom lip. Not yet. God, not yet.

But in the end maybe even he doesn't have any say.

"Don't stop," he growls, forcing his eyes open and staring down, the hand on the back of Tom's head tightening. "Christ, don't you... don't you fucking stop."

It's an order. Underneath it is a plea.