Think about it. Marley and Connors making out sloppy style on the couch. Marley is so much bigger than Connors, boxing him in, holding him close. Maybe it's winter, Connors' fingers are so cold as they graze Marley's lower back. He shudders, pressing his body closer, pressing Connors deeper into the cushions. Connors has a leg hooked over Marley's hip, as if Marley would want to move anyway.
You can hear the wet sound of their kisses, lips meeting, pulling away, and then meeting again. One of them moans, neither knows which one. Maybe there's a little frotting, a little dry humping through their sweatpants. Marley's arm wrapped under and around Connors, his fingers, those massive fingers, digging into his hair so Marley can get enough purchase to thrust.
Maybe Marley cums in his pants. Maybe he just can't take it anymore and "Connor, c'mon, touch me for real." And Connor listens because he's not evil. Maybe he wedges a hand between their bodies, barely gets his hand around Marley's dick before he's shooting off like a rocket.
Maybe.
