Lance's voice was a strangled gasp as he shoved Henry's reaching hand away.
The vibration inside him had just jumped to a brutal, relentless maximum setting—a deep, drilling pulse that erased every thought except the need for friction, for release.
His own hands were fumbling at his belt, his dress pants pushed down to his thighs before he even registered what he was doing.
His cock, hard and dripping, was in his fist.
He stroked furiously, his hips bucking into his own grip, a choked sob escaping his lips.
Henry bit his own lip, his face flushed, eyes wide and dark with arousal. He took a step closer, hand outstretched again. "Lance, just let me—"
"I said stay the fuck away!" Lance snarled, the words torn from him as the vibrator seemed to find a new, devastating frequency against his prostate. His strokes became frantic, sloppy. Pre-cum slicked his fingers.
