Several answers, each dirtier than the last, flitted through his brain, but they all vanished entirely with a curious jolt of desire running through him that made Vlad arch reflexively into his touch.

The man was good. Vlad hadn't forgotten that. But he wasn't good enough to make Vlad forget what he was doing, and even as Thomas touched him through his (faintly uncomfortable now) black trousers Vlad himself was teasing, stroking too lightly to really get through the denim.

"It might," he finally managed breathlessly, his hips now rocking unabashedly into the touches, "Depending on what you're aiming for. You wouldn't want to go to touch her and realize you're caressing her nose, now would you?" Ignoring the button on Thomas' jeans, Vlad pulled down the zipper. One finger, still muffled by the cloth between them, moved down Thomas' length in one slow stroke.