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Skizz dragged his hand down Impulse's torso, following coarse hair and relishing in the squirms and whimpers he drew out of the bound and tied man before him.
His best friend, on his knees for Skizz.
What an addicting sight he was, eyes begging for Skizz to hurry — but he would never rush this, couldn't dream of skipping the sweet wind up, the tantalizing knowledge that they were at his mercy…
Impulse knew. He liked it just as much as Skizz, and sometimes that's all it was. Hours of a tied-up, kneeling Impulse, and a proud Skizz watching over him.