[ It's good already, the slowness offering a wonderful edge. Jim's hard, too, and slips one hand between them to rub Thomas's cock through his clothes, still unhurried, encouraging him closer after a moment so that he can feel Jim, too. That hand shifts beneath the other man's shirt again, palming over his skin, holding him. Kissing him all the while. ]
Can I take this off? [ He asks after long minutes that he's lost track of - his shirt, he means, hand fisted in the edge of it. ]
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Can I take this off? [ He asks after long minutes that he's lost track of - his shirt, he means, hand fisted in the edge of it. ]