Puck can't stop his quick smirk, kissing the inside of Sam's thigh. "You don't think you're gonna get pleasure?" he asks with an eyebrow raised; for the moment, the nervousness melts away and leaves him relaxed and happy. Sam's hands always feel good, comforting, in his hair, and he settles down on his stomach to concentrate.
He doesn't watch Sam, because he's too busy concentrating on what he's doing and trying to neither drool nor bite nor choke, and he carefully slides Sam's length further into his mouth, taking him in a few inches and breathing steadily through his nose. Sam tastes clean, a little sweet and a little salty, bulging with want between his lips and against his palm. His free hand lightly kneads Sam's thigh, because he doesn't entirely know what to do with it; he gradually falls into a rhythm, coordinating his sucks and the movements of his hands, swirling his tongue around his tip with a vibrating moan.
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He doesn't watch Sam, because he's too busy concentrating on what he's doing and trying to neither drool nor bite nor choke, and he carefully slides Sam's length further into his mouth, taking him in a few inches and breathing steadily through his nose. Sam tastes clean, a little sweet and a little salty, bulging with want between his lips and against his palm. His free hand lightly kneads Sam's thigh, because he doesn't entirely know what to do with it; he gradually falls into a rhythm, coordinating his sucks and the movements of his hands, swirling his tongue around his tip with a vibrating moan.