Mickey loved the little moan Sorin gave, the one caught behind his lips, barely audible. Obviously, the boy was torn between keeping it down and giving in too much. Mickey grinned. It'd be a challenge to get Sorin to scream.
Challenge accepted.
He loved the pale skin of the boy, so different from his own. He loved the way you could see the bones underneath, fluttering alive like waves in the ocean, rippling that delicate skin. But most of all, Mickey loved the way Sorin begged for it, in an accent that was almost too hot to believe.
Never let it be said that Mickey didn't listen. With a quick, fluid motion, he removed his fingers and positioned himself behind the boy. He grabbed Sorin's hips and then, with a quick, assertive motion, Mickey claimed his prize. He groaned.