Michael's moan this time was louder, as Alex's mouth hit all the right spots on his neck. He didn't care about it showing - just thought Alex would, but he supposed he'd been wrong. He twisted his fingers a little bit more in Alex's hair, releasing then tightening again.

His hips rolled in a much more purposeful way, if still unconscious, searching for friction. The slip of his fingers under the waistband of Alex's boxers was more deliberate. He wanted more of him, more of his mouth, of his skin, of his weight on him, pressing him into the bed.

"Alex..."