Mick only rumbles out a laugh in response, "Sure you do, Lenny." He's drunk on touch and on every sound he can wring out of his partner tonight and it really doesn't get much better than this.

Then he breaks, he pleads and follows it up with a sharp bite of teeth that send bolts of pleasure right through Mick. He kisses him again, slowly. Easing them both down at least a little bit. "I've got you Lenny."

And he does.
They move together this time, both of them riding that edge for as long as possible until they crash and break into one another. Collapsing in a satisfied and boneless tangle of limbs.

Mick draws him close, lips at his temple as he remembers how to breathe again.
Lenny.
Mine.