I've done well. He's pleased. He always gets this way when we do well...

Kinky little shit. Think we should give him what he wants, then?

It happens quickly. Locus draws out of that kiss enough to peel his shirt away, and then they're sinking down to rest on their knees in front of him, hand still grasping the front of his sweatpants.

"Is this what you want?" It's not quite the usual tone Locus takes, that measure of caution beforehand. There's a touching of something teasing, almost mocking there, before he rocks forward, mouthing him through the fabric.

It's not permission for where to take this. They've already decided where it needs to.