“I don’t care,” he said, and moaned as Izzy’s thumb teased his length. “I don’t care, just touch me!”
Izzy got a glint in his eye, and he grinned. “Oh, baby, but don’t you want me to eat you out?”
Wyatt couldn’t fucking breathe. “Y-yeah!”
Izzy patted the table.
Wyatt stared at him blankly.
“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” Izzy said. “And you made it look so nice. Maybe this is where I want to finish my meal.”
“Holy fuck. Are you serious?” Wyatt’s brain shut down at the thought, but his dick was absolutely on board.
“You want to try?”
Wyatt looked at the table for a moment and then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stood up and moved down toward the end, so at least he’d be out of the way of the plates and the candles and the cutlery. His legs were shaky as he hitched himself up onto the table.