Those fingernails of his dug into the leather of his belt. Wesley was straddling him and Conrad feared he might just come on himself then and there. Wesley felt perfect on top of him like this. Their bodies together, with nothing in-between. Thank the lord Conrad's little confession hadn't ruined the mood. The Brit was fairly certain he'd die if he didn't find release soon and any further delays would have been unbearable.
Not only had he not ruined the mood, but Wesley seemed to be open to.. quite a few things. And while Conrad wanted to experiment and fool around for the sake of figuring out what he liked, he was so wound up, he knew it wouldn't take much physical attention to get him to burst. He leaned up, meeting that aggressive kiss with some fire of his own.
"I don't think we're going to need a safe word, dear. I'm not as fragile as I look." He quirked a brow. A joke, amidst all this tension. Because Conrad very much hoped that he did not look fragile, despite his skinny frame.
But maybe Wesley was simply wary of pushing too hard. It was a reasonable concern, given Conrad's past inconsistent behavior. But Conrad would never back down now. It didn't matter how much he wrestled with denial and his self-image; the only person who could stop Conrad now was Wesley himself. He leaned in, just enough to run his tongue along the curve of the other man's ear. "Wes," he growled, "I want to fuck you."