Eliot arches up into the press of Danny's nails, eyes darkening further as he rolls their hips together again, and again. "Christ, sweetheart, the way you feel an' the noises you make." He's usually so careful with lovers, not to leave marks or encourage them to, but all he wants right now is to mark Danny so thoroughly that no one will be able to look at him without knowing he's taken, and he wants to wear as many damn marks as Danny's willing to leave in return.

He huffs a laugh, warm and low, and grins down at Danny. "Just so long as you don't mind waitin' for a bit before round two, I'm not exactly sixteen anymore." Even if he almost feels it right now, and he tips his head with a hiss of indrawn breath as Danny's teeth press into his throat, wordlessly encouraging even as he shifts most of his weight down onto one elbow to make it easier for Danny to reach. And to free up a hand so he can run it down Danny's flank and over his hip, nails scratching lightly for now.

"Can't think of a damn thing I want more right now that t'fuck you 'til neither of us can walk, darlin'."