He didn't tease. He dove down, his hot, wet mouth latching onto Lance's right nipple with a brutal, perfect suction.
Oh, fuck.
The sensation was electric, a direct line of pure, sharp pleasure that zipped straight to Lance's cock.
He cried out, his back bowing off the bed. Ansel sucked hard, his tongue swirling roughly over the tight peak, then scraping it with his teeth.
The mix of sting and deep, pulling pressure was exquisite, and Lance's hips began to piston helplessly against the air, his cock leaking onto his stomach.
"Yes… fuck, yes, just like that… suck it, please…" Lance babbled, one hand flying to tangle in Ansel's hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, to beg for more.
Ansel switched to the other nipple, giving it the same devastating attention, biting and licking until Lance was sobbing with overstimulation, his whole chest a map of fiery, sensitized nerve endings.
