Tom Irwin

"Jesus, Dakin," murmured Irwin, who'd taught Dakin, after all, and knew that his comprehension was much sharper than this when it suited him, "would you let me fuck you? All of that that I said before." He paused, sucking up a mark on Dakin's collarbone, answering to a sudden, sharp need to show where he'd been. "Because you might have spent lessons day-dreaming about sucking off but that was what I was thinking about."