Even as Stiles guided his hand, Isaac's fingers curled instinctively around the shaft of the other slave's erection. It was hot and hard in his hand, the skin like velvet against his palm. He had felt it inside him before, but he had never had the chance to really admire it. He stroked fluidly down the shaft, letting Stiles' reaction make him bolder.
"My mouth is warmer," he said, in a high pitched voice, silently begging for permission.