"Oh, Christ," Michael gasps. He falls onto his ass, scooting across the floor to the nearest wall to lean on. He gently rubs at the stiffness in his jaw, wipes off his mouth, and struggles to tame his hair.

"God, Johnny, that--" He closes his eyes, hands fisted in the towel that is still wrapped around him, despite the rather impressive tent he's produced. His kunckles are white, his eyes clenched shut, and he's reduced to moaning, "Johnny..."