The sight of Clay, golden and beautiful on his knees is almost too much. Almost trying to detach himself from the feeling, he watches Clay descend his body - the warmth of his mouth and roughness of his stubbled face oddly familar yet still so special. He squeezes the back of Clay's neck with one hand, the other is in Clay's hair, caressing, stroking.

A rough groan escapes him as Clay touches his aching cock, and the fingers at Clay's neck curl into a fist.