"Breathe, Bello." He wants to taste. Wants to bite, wants to take- but does not. He breathes through a soft sigh to settle himself, hands remaining firm where they are around Anders' waist. They do not wander. "I tell you that you might move, that I will let you touch me as you like though my hands slip from your skin to move the silks aside. To pull something from under the chaise- a small wooden chest filled with slender rods, each thicker than the last. 'Have you seen these before?' I ask, one hand dipping to hold your cock still, my thumb flicking back and forth across the dripping slit at your head. I take some of that slickness and roll it across my bottom lip while I wait for your answer."