It seems like good advice. So he follows it. He shuts up and lets the sheer wave of sensation buoy him away from all the complications of talking and thinking about shit over which he has no control at all. He opens his mouth against Neil's skin and moans, giving Neil's dick one long stroke and then another. Every time he moves now, it feels like a step onward and upward, though he still isn't even moving that quickly. It's building. Burning. One or the other.

I love you. He doesn't say it. He lets it press against the back of his throat. Those words have density, weight.

If only they don't have too much of it.