"You." It's an easy answer, heavy with the truth of it. You, just you. At this moment, it's was just him and Wylan--even with the lingering threat that someone might find them.

He runs his fingers through Wylan's hair, the grip twisting in the soft curls when Wylan's mouth is finally--Saints, finally--wrapping around him and swallowing him down. It's tempting, all too tempting, to use that grip to his advantage and roll his hips up into the warm, wet, sweet mouth. He bites back that urge for the moment if only to see what Wylan's little devious streak might lead to next.