He laughs again, shuddering and pushing back against the pressure of Neil's hands in an easy, slow roll. Something is shifting again. He could stay here and stay loose and compliant, let Neil manhandle him, and it's not an unpleasant prospect. Not when it's this hard and deep and slow.

Or.

Shoving himself up suddenly with his hands, he throws his weight backward, Neil sliding out of him with an abruptness that makes him gasp, along with the burn of the tattoo. But he doesn't care. In another second he has Neil on his back, straddling him, reaching back to curl his fingers around Neil's lube-slick cock.

"Maybe I'm not that fucking nice after all," he breathes, lifts slightly and lowers down again, impaling himself.

His head drops back, eyes squeezed shut and his face contorting into a grimace. "Holy shit."