[As soon as he feels Oliver's palms against his hips, he lifts them as if on command, demanding that he undo the fastenings of his pants and tug them off. Then they're gone, leaving his cock to strain against the fabric of his underwear. Connor flashes a sly grin at Oliver; all of this comes so naturally. As if they had never cut each other with their words and silences, which now fade like a bad dream upon waking.]
Come on, you next.
[Unrestrained by shyness he reaches for Oliver, his shoulders rising from the mattress in pursuit of this aim, his fingers finding the button and zipper, popping and pulling and bold enough to caress him through his pants before he begins to yank them down.]
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Come on, you next.
[Unrestrained by shyness he reaches for Oliver, his shoulders rising from the mattress in pursuit of this aim, his fingers finding the button and zipper, popping and pulling and bold enough to caress him through his pants before he begins to yank them down.]