You could say a lot about Ezra outside of this - but where sex was involved, you got what you came for. And that was exactly what Dante'd come for.

Well. Not yet. But they'd get to that in due time.

He stopped keeping track of anything but the rhythm of Ezra's thrusts, working his tongue and the humming of his throat as well as fucking possible to make it good. His mouth was getting all kinds of wet, but he didn't give a shit about that. He was starting to ache against his pants and that was good, too, driving him to fucking distraction.

His finger pressed in. Just a little bit. Couldn't go much further anyway.

Maybe that hum was more of a moan.