"Fuck," he manages, and it comes out in something close to a sob as he's overwhelmed all at once. He can't play at this level. He can be here and he can function, but it can't be play. Not yet. Neil says something like that and it's all he can do to hold himself together. It's like G-forces under his skin.

Fuck me.

Part of him is aching for that, ripped open and raw for it. But it's too much. It's giving up too much control.

Soon.

"I could fuck you," he mutters, scraping his nails down Neil's spine. Their legs are almost hopelessly tangled. He remembers this. He remembers how to do this. At the very least, he can fake it. "Think I could probably make that happen."