Drawing a moan from Yussa already is deeply encouraging, and Caleb ceases his attentions only when the other man removes his hand from his hair, pulling back just enough to look up at him and speak. "Nein," he protests, a soft groan. "Hold as tightly as you like. Please."

He needs no further encouragement to get to his task. Single-minded and eager, Caleb's fingers hook into his smalls and draw them down his thighs as well. Finally he puts his mouth exactly where it belongs. His hands clutch at Yussa's hips and his tongue parts his folds in a firm lick, curling as it reaches his clit to roll over it again and again.

The taste of him, the scent of his arousal, and the silky, blood-hot sensitive skin under his mouth--this is everything Caleb wanted. He barely hears the music from the club filtering into the bathroom, but he is hyper-aware of every sound Yussa makes, every twitch of muscle--every demand, voiced or not.