Frank eased in a second finger. It was slower than how Billy had treated him, but probably because he didn't really know what he was doing. He worked slow, but steady, and leaned in to kiss Billy's throat, down to his shoulder, scraping teeth.

"That's it," he murmured against Billy's skin. This close, without looking at Billy, it was easier to make the words come. "That's it, baby. Attaboy."