"God, I hope so."

Not that Buck isn't enjoying it; of course he is. His gorgeous, sweet, hunk of a boyfriend happily and enthusiastically putting his tongue and fingers to work in ways Buck has only dreamed of? Fantastic. All the new sensations he's been introduced to in the last few months? Ten out of ten, no notes, he's fully obsessed with all of it. Possibly a little too obsessed with it; Tommy is never condescending about it, never overbearing, but he's had to make a habit of getting Buck to slow down and actually listen to his body. Usually that just means being careful, double checking his work before finally letting Buck have what he wants, but every once in a while, it leads to what's happening now.

It leads to Buck, laid back on the pillows, one leg tossed over Tommy's shoulder and the other pulled back against his own chest so he's practically folded in half, while Tommy goes to town between his legs. He'd started by eating Buck out, acting like a starving man at a buffet, bringing Buck to the edge twice before finally backing away. He'd been so open, so lax that Tommy was able to slip one, then two fingers right into Buck's body with no resistance. Buck had expected that to be it, to have Tommy's fingers in him for a few minutes before they moved on.

But that's not what happens.

What happens is that Tommy settles in like he's getting comfy for the evening, resting Buck's bad leg on his shoulder so it doesn't strain. He places gentle kisses on Buck's thigh, nuzzling into the soft hair as his fingers move. It's so much, on the heels of two almost-orgasms, Tommy's fingers dragging slowly inside of him with no end in sight, but it's also not nearly enough, and Buck couldn't stop the whine from leaving his mouth if he tried.

He can't see the smirk on Tommy's face but he can damn well feel it against his thigh, along with the huff of air as he chuckles.

"Patience, Evan," he says, softening the words with another kiss.

"I've been patient," Buck argues. He tilts his hips down as much as he can, taking Tommy by surprise enough that for a few glorious seconds, Tommy's fingers are all the way inside him, giving him that little bit of stretch he's been wanting. But it doesn't last, Tommy gripping his hip and returning to his slow, steady pace.

"Aww, something wrong?"

"Yeah, you're not fucking me. It's been like an hour—"

"Baby, it's been maybe twenty minutes. Tops."

"Okay, it feels like it's been an hour." Buck pauses, sucking in a breath as Tommy nips at his thigh, but at least he picks up the pace a little, strokes a little deeper. "I think you need to—oh, fuck—you need to hurry it up and get up here and fuck me. Properly. Or I'm going to get my dildo and go fuck myself on the couch and you don't get to come at all."

He chances a glance down, unsure if he's crossed a line, but Tommy's gaze is dark with want as their eyes meet.