It wasn't going to last very long, so there was that. Not that Ezra seemed to care very much whether he was there or not. He was watching Ronan with a lazy gaze but most of his attention – understandably – was on himself.

He let his strokes get a little harder, a little faster, a little more rough. His thumb rubbed over the tip on a stroke or three, and little noises were beginning to escape his lips.