Whatever had made it okay for Mitchell to touch the scar at his throat earlier was gone now, replaced by a painful, unexpected reminder that he was only human. It didn't matter that there was tenderness in the kiss, Samandriel jerked back instinctively anyway. "Not there," he whispered, returning his mouth to Mitchell's in some sort of rapid attempt to show he was okay, that he wasn't mad at least. "Anywhere but there."
He was a writhing mess, though. Working on letting go of enough of himself to offer Mitchell more than quiet moans and heavy breathing. He couldn't focus much on touching in return, though he wanted to. His hands felt clumsy on the other man, awkward. He should know how to play better than this, but he couldn't seem to manage it.