[Hm, yes, all right. He's determined to go down on Lorenz tonight, but there's something immensely pleasant about the slow way they get there. He perches in his lap, hands sweeping over Lorenz's chest, his shoulders, gently pushing his shirt off completely.]

Something small, I think. The size shouldn't matter much, so long as it does its job properly.

[He brushes the tips of his fingers lightly against one of the bruises on Lorenz's neck, his gaze thoughtful.]

And while there's merit in taking our time . . . [His eyes dart up, and he presses firmly,] nor would I mind watching you go from put together to wanton within five minutes.