Lucius could listen to the breathy, punched out sounds that Izzy makes for hours. Each thrust drives a new one out of him and each stroke is a different sound on inhale. The man is loud and Lucius has never been more delighted to learn a fact about Izzy Hands. He rewards each noise, of course--rolling his hips just a touch each time he drives in, thumb smearing under the head of his cock with each pull--it's an exhausting amount of coordination but Lucius is very good at multitasking.

For the moment.

The longer this carries on, the tighter he's wound--mind blanking except for the points where they touch. The pressure and heat when he fucks in, the leg hooked over his shoulder, the fingers digging into his other shoulder, wound in his hair--those are the only things that exist, for the moment, and Lucius is perfectly content with that. Nails bite into skin and pleasure coils in his gut--

How long has he been on this boat? Too long. He can't remember the last time he was celibate this long. And Izzy is breaking the dry spell? God just the thought is maddening. He's not going to be able to make a production out of this at all.

"You feel--fucking amazing--"