As much as J would like to stay in this moment longer, lingering in the warm, hazy space between tensely poised on the edge of orgasm and relaxed from how good he feels, he knows he can't. For one thing, S can only keep this going for so long. Mostly, though, it's been way too long since he had this. Even having come once already, and not that long ago, he really isn't used to this anymore. Between that and how well S is taking him and how good it feels to have this kind of love and attention focused on him, he knows an end is imminent.

It would be disappointing if he didn't feel fucking wonderful. And, too, there's the prospect of tomorrow, of the day after that, even. It seems possible now, which is more than he could have said an hour ago or even this morning. That in itself feels incredible, just knowing he has something to hold onto, something to want that won't, hopefully, hurt anyone else. Some kind of future, maybe, with S.

"Fuck, so close," he moans, pitching up into a whine. "So good." He's really not coherent enough to voice more of a warning than that, hoping distantly that S heard in case he's not in the mood to let J come in his mouth.