Kavinsky breathed out, gustily and wanting, a little shaky. Jack's mouth was a perfect wet heat, a wonderful mess of attention, and his hands felt sure and heavy on Kavinsky's skin. He squirmed, a little, pressing more toward that touch, shuddering breath in and out as he tried to keep from flying apart.

"'m I allowed to come from this?" It seemed important to ask right now, before he made an ass of himself.