's all good with me, yeah?
"God, Simon," Roger groaned, tipping his head back. He wanted so badly to touch, to slide his hands down Simon's back - to have Simon's arse underneath his palms.
He flexed his wrists again, in futile - Simon himself had tied the knots; he wasn't going to get out of them that easily, and Simon's wet mouth on his throat was incredibly distracting - especially there -