The picture that his Dom was painting was already a vivid thing in his mind. It made him moan in imagination, his dick responding to just the idea of being so thoroughly cared for by both of his Doms, where they would have the control and the grace to give him exactly what he craved right now. His breath had gone tight, words stuck in his throat while his focus was stolen away from everyone and everything around him.

Then he was jarred back into the present when imagination became something more than that. He had to slow, stop walking entirely, head going back while he groaned at the promise of what was to come vibrating down his nerves. God, what had he done to deserve all of this?