His cheeks flush slightly; he's a total sex shark, and he's fucking awesome when it comes to sex and anything related to sex, but this is still a little out of his element - and it's painfully obvious. Sam shifts, resting his leg against Puck's back, all sleek muscle against sleek muscle and bone. "I want to," he murmurs lowly, realizing that it's basically what he'd said to Sam the first time Sam had ever done this to him [their first day together - this is kind of a long time coming, no pun intended]. "I wanna taste you." His expression is uncertain though, because - what? Does he just hold it like a banana and go to town? Or is it hands-off?

He carefully maneuvers onto his elbows, gently wrapping the fingers of one hand around his base and inhaling deeply. He feels himself calm, and he can almost taste Sam, slightly musky and warm in his palm. He exhales through his nose before gently kissing his head, the tip of his tongue trailing over his slit. Sam is slightly salty, slick, with a deep taste [like the way expensive beer has hidden flavors]; he can't stop his soft moan.