"Not in the bad way," Dan manages to get out, half-gasping, half in a huff of a laugh. "Feels good," he adds, and then one of Marcus's clever, clever fingers is easing its way inside of him. His head drops forward as he groans, knowing instinctively that the only ones who might catch them are a small herd of deer half a mile away, deep in a thicket.

"Keep going," he begs, inhaling the smell of fresh air and harvest soil, drying greenery. He sucks the air in, relaxing himself around the slick finger inside him. "So good, always so good."