What? He just liked things being fair between them, and he liked skin on skin, thank you. Even so, his fingers continued massaging that space at the base of the last port as he was prepared by FDR, a process he was indeed no stranger too. He was loose enough for him quickly enough, though he did appreciate the fiery burst of pleasure the pressure on his prostate gave him. He shivered and groaned, his hands moving down to grip at FDR's ass.

"Come on, stop dancing and get to it," he panted, shifting himself so he could throw one of his legs over FDR's shoulder as if his verbal demand was not enough.