"Not even nearly enough." He purrs, then drags a tongue along FDR's neck. His hand works on him almost on automatic. He knows that dick so well. He knows what it likes and what it needs.

It really helps, more than he thought, that they could switch from rocket fuel to pedal power without things getting weird, without hitting any walls. He got scared, okay? It does terrify him whenever he has to confront himself with the fact that he loves him.

Everything he cares about, ever, gets taken away. So he gets frantic, like a starved, dying man trying to decide what his last meal should be- But then FDR can ground him like this and kiss him like they don't have anywhere to be for years... and Dean can almost believe that this one thing is gonna stay his.