The thing was, he wouldn't bite him. He had no desire to ruin things, to hurt Dylan. It was why the shooting had bothered him so much. Daniel might like destroying people with words, but as the cards had told, he was a lover not a fighter. Or so he liked to believe, even if he had constantly ruined love in his life.

Now though he was worried about lust, about pleasure and pleasing another. Later he'd show bites that felt good, peppery soft bites along his thighs, the curve of a hip. That was later though. Now was focusing as his gaze dropped, pausing to feel pleased with himself to get that sound from Dylan.

Then his lips parted, sliding them over the head of Dylan's cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip as he sank down until his lips slipped beneath the ridge. Pausing then to suckle gently, hand moving in a gently, barely moving stroking motion as he let himself slid down further, slowly, tongue along silken flesh, wetting and tasting all at the same time.