Lars's hand is kinda nudged out of the way by the eager, full swell of Lauren's cock, and he makes a surprised eyebrow lift. He moves his hand out of the way more completely so that he doesn't get his hand ground into the denim and zipper. When Lauren talks again, Lars's eyelids flutter and he moans weakly, feeling dizzy for a second by the rush of arousal and feeling of power in those words. Especially with his hands on his ass. He feels briefly overcome.
"Fuck," he says almost breathlessly, starting to come back to reality there. Also, though Lauren probably didn't intend it, there's uh—certain implications in that statement that makes an eager bead of precum well at the tip of his dick. "God damn, you say the hottest shit," he mutters.
He steps back, loosely holding Lauren's wrist so as to guide him. "Let's move to my room, though."
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"Fuck," he says almost breathlessly, starting to come back to reality there. Also, though Lauren probably didn't intend it, there's uh—certain implications in that statement that makes an eager bead of precum well at the tip of his dick. "God damn, you say the hottest shit," he mutters.
He steps back, loosely holding Lauren's wrist so as to guide him. "Let's move to my room, though."