"Hurry hurry hurry," Thomas said, voice hoarse and thin. He didn't know how he could help that along but he kept grabbing and groping, kept pushing his hips up whenever he remembered that he had hips and he could move.

He writhed and squirmed, eyes tightly closed and skin overheating to the point that Thomas wondered if he was red all over. He was clinging to that precipice and it was almost painful in its pleasure.

"Hurry hurry hurry," he chanted again, barely realizing that he was saying that out loud and not repeating the mantra in his head.