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    Summary

    “I was thinking if I could make you come a few times in one night… That ought to cover most of the bases.”

    Tom does this sometimes, gets very businesslike and official in the bedroom when he’s trying to communicate something he wants. Greg hates the fact that it turns him on now; it’s almost Pavlovian. One day the wires will get crossed in his brain and he’ll end up unbearably hard in a meeting about marketing campaigns whilst Tom waxes assertively about budgets.

    “Uh-huh, okay, sure,” Greg says. He feels unusually nervous, his heart is thrumming a harder rhythm in his chest that he can hear in his ears. He’s watching Tom undo his pants, tug them down his hips, leaning in to fit his mouth over his shaft, soaking the material of his underwear, “What if I can’t—“

    “Greg,” Tom says, a little sharply, “We’ll just… Cross that fucking bridge when we get to it, okay?”

    ~

    OR: Tom wants Greg to claim him in a very Tom-like fashion.

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