Desmond drew in a breath as he felt that hand slide along his leg, and he shivered, arching his back slightly. "Yeah? I love the way it feels on my tongue," he groaned. He dragged his tongue over his lips, shuddering when those teeth grazed his neck, and he arched a little more. "Oh fuck, Michael." He was starting to get aroused, and part of him knew that he should probably pull away, tell Michael they needed to stop, but dammit, he didn't want to.