He's pushing off from the chair, and they both thud down on the carpet a little too hard. Feels good, feels like a good jolt. He swings a leg over Nick's waist, and bears down on him, hips angled, panting with need. He pushes it a little too fast; he's tight, never been stretched before, not like this. It's an edge of painful, and he hisses, curling forward, muscles clamping down. His hips rock, gently, because he can't make himself stay still.

"Nick, Nick." He doesn't know if he can say no to this. He wants to be claimed, desperately; he wants to be wanted. He wants to be needed.