If Elijah had been planning a coherent response to the comment about the arsenal, it flew out of his head with the first drag of Ric's fingers around his cock. He'd been so focused on the other man, neglecting touching himself, that Ric's fingers set off fireworks beneath his skin.

His hips arched, pressing up into Ric's fingers, back against him, up again. Sliding his fingers, he curled them around Ric's wrist, but didn't tug him away, didn't try and stop or guide him.

He just needed something to hold on to--and if the whimper he gave was any indication, he needed it because the pleasure was almost too intense.