Hands resting on Casey's waist, he helped him move, lifting and releasing gently to let him ride helplessly on his cock. He growled into the kiss, tongue fucking forward to invade Casey's mouth. With each passing moment, it became more and more clear that Sigmund was being driven utterly mad with want.
For a moment, he just held them together, connected without moving. "You're so good," he said breathlessly and the adjective seemed oddly out of place. But 'good,' described any number of things about Casey. Everything about him.
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