As Yussa moves to perch over him, Caleb obligingly rolls onto his back, feeling heat pool even more intensely under his skin. When prompted, he releases his grip so that Yussa can take over. Caleb watches his hand move lightly over his dick, and the sight is mouthwatering--Yussa, smirking, stroking a comparatively thick cock jutting out between his thighs.

Sometimes he is very, very glad for his excellent memory.

Caleb doesn't need more of an invitation to push his hand between Yussa's legs, dragging two fingers from his wet opening to his swollen clit. They're so close together that his knuckles brush over his own tightly drawn balls, then the root of his cock. He breathes a soft, pleasantly startled noise, but isn't deterred from his task, which has the whole of his attention. He rubs flat circles with his fingers, spreading Yussa's slick around. The sound is already obscene, especially as Yussa's fluid glosses his folds, the crease of his thighs. There is something very satisfying about making a mess of such a powerful, put together man, and Caleb can't help humming with pride.

With slick fingers he nudges his folds aside to take the base of his hard clit between his thumb and index finger. Caleb gently massages him at the root, starting to lightly jerk him off and brushing the head with his thumb in the process, an echo of what Yussa had done to him.