"Fuck," he breathes. "Your fucking voice."

He kisses over Neil's chest, sucks a hickey where his breast meets the flatter plane of his sternum. In the month they've been really exploring things together, Caleb's gotten better at holding off. He still slips, and right now, it feels like it might be one of those times. Neil's arousal is a different shape like this, not what he's used to, and he can feel himself spilling precome in his pants.