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Summary
They're here again, somehow. Norton had sworn last time they fucked would be the last time, but here they are again. He hates it. He hates Orpheus. Most of all, maybe, he hates himself.
Orpheus' mouth is on his, hot and wet, tongue prodding it's way between his teeth. Norton lets him, because of course he does, because he's never been able to deny himself the quick hit of pleasure when someone offers it. It's so rarely offered, after all. Orpheus knows that, too, the bastard.
It helps that he's paying him. He tries hard not to think about how he would do it for free if Orpheus just asked.