"Wyatt," Glitch breathes out, drawn into a moan and whine. Now he's starting to find a rhythm, his body seems to be remembering things he doesn't, the way to roll his hips to send sparks up behind his vision and, he thinks, to pull and tighten around Wyatt in him.

He doesn't pause, now he's found that rhythm. He's no sooner pushed down than he's drawing back up, back arching to push back down with a moan and murmured words and a smile starting to grace his face.