Dan's pretty sure his eyes roll into the back of his head briefly when as Marcus attaches his mouth to Dan's neck, like it's some long-dormant point of arousal that's been waiting inside him like all of this passion must have done. His head falls back; he bares his throat, trusting Marcus with all of it, with his vulnerability, trusts that Marcus will keep making him feel good.

When Marcus shifts, it takes Dan a second or two to realize why, and then there's a hand inside his pants. It does not disappoint.

"Yeah," he breathes, though it's more like panting at this point. "Oh my god, Marcus, yes." He leans in to drink that whimper from Marcus's lips, to let himself taste the skin of Marcus's neck now, the elegant column of muscle having been a distraction (he realizes now) even during that week of winter together. "Fuck," he whispers. "Fair warning that I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. It's been... years. And it was never, ever like this. Never this good."