“Yes, sir,” Carver murmurs, keeping his eyes closed. It’s been a while since he’s fucked anyone completely sober. He doesn’t want to enjoy it but there’s something heady about the way Pope lowers his voice. How he spread his legs as Carver fingers him. Like it’s something genuinely wanted, and not forced on them.

He presses back in, angling up and rubbing gently for the spot that’ll make it feel better. He has a feeling Pope won’t know how to react to this.