[Lance is inexpert, all eager fumbling and shaky hands, but the fingers squeezing at Matt's tender, aching breast makes him whine, high and pleading, crooking his fingers just so, wanting to feel Lance shudder apart again. The hand between his legs doesn't matter as much, not when he can part his thighs and shift forward, prompting and guiding silently, even slicker than Lance is, coaxing his trembling fingers where they need to be.

He's absolutely shameless, arching his back, moaning softly whenever Lance's rough fingers stray too close to the tiny jeweled studs, whimpering sweetly:] God, god, yes, play with them, play with my tits, sweetheart, go ahead.

[Another shaky gasp, and he slows his movements suddenly, thumbing teasingly over where Lance is soaked and swollen and sore, not nearly enough. There's a teasing note in his voice when he whispers, leaning in, wet tangled hair falling over his shoulder:] Say it. Tell me where you want it, where you want Shiro's cock. Tell me.