There, Carver thinks, and he bites Pope a little harder, groaning softly. He can hear Pope’s breath as he exhales, as he arches into it. Bending to the pleasure. There’s something heady in that, something that twists in Carver’s gut as he fucks this man.

He braces his hand on the mattress by Pope’s head and fucks him a little harder, grinding against that spot. You feel good, sir, he almost says, and just makes a small sound against Pope’s throat.