"They're looking at you, not me," I murmured, a low groan wedged in the back of my throat as he stretched me open, his skilled hands warm and purposeful. I loved our moments of fumbling, when we couldn't wait to get our hands on each other, when he was boyish and stumbling and gleefully aroused, but these moments of confidence were enough to leave me in awe of him.

"Elio," I murmured, arching against him. Naked and exposed, it was somehow sexier to have him dressed and outwardly composed. In control. I wanted more of it, and luckily, he'd caught on quickly.