He rocked on Del’s lap, his body urging him into an awkward, faltering rhythm that was dictated half by panic, half by need.
His hands were shaking, and he couldn’t stop them. A sound caught somewhere between a whimper and a moan squeezed out of him, and he didn’t even care how stupid it sounded. Del pulled him even closer, one hand on the small of Justin’s back now, and the other one slipping down the back of his jeans, warm fingers sliding under the elastic of Justin’s underwear and brushing the cleft of his ass.
Justin jerked, his dick painfully hard, and made that dumb noise again.
“Come on,” Del whispered against his lips. “Take what you need, Justin. Come for me, babe.”
Justin cried out, the sound muffled by Del’s mouth, as he came in his jeans and then slumped heavily against Del. He panted for breath as Del carded fingers through his hair.
“That was so hot,” Del whispered at last.
Justin lifted his head to look at him.
“Even hotter than I imagined,” Del said.