It was always a battle between them, though if Pan wanted something easy he wouldn't have chose Cyrus now would he. The sounds the silver-haired boy made were like music to his ears, trickling along his flesh as pride swelled inside of him. He knew how to make him squirm, make his breath hitch and make his body yearn for him. Pan could feel it, the way their hips moved together and created such sweet sweet friction. Pleasure buzzed along his flesh as hands groped his body. He loved Cyrus's hands on him, though he wouldn't ever speak it so aloud. Hands fisted in his shirt, the rip of fabric echoing along the beach. Eyes snapped from the torn fabric back to Cyrus, feigned anger shining in his gaze. Fingers combed through his hair, tugging hard as he pulled Pan back -- the moan that fell from the blonde's lips one he would have been ashamed off should anyone else hear it. He loved it, the pain that tingled against his scalp, eyes fluttering as he did his best not to fall to the pleasure of such rough treatment.<br/><br/>Fingers moved along his chest, capturing a pink nub and twisting. His own hands gripped thighs as he felt himself twitch below the belt. "Fuck Cy," breathed softly as cheek hinted at a soft pink. Cyrus was always so rough and it spoke to something deep inside of Pan, though the quip and rough shove that came yet again caught him off guard. Staring up at Cyrus, Pan gaped at him for a moment, his taunting not something he was going to let slide. Shocked expression soon twisting into a devilish smirk as the hand went ignored. "Hungry? But there's more than enough to eat right here," words cooed as Pan shifted to his knees. Hands grabbed Cyrus by the hem of his pants, tongue sliding along the front as his green gaze never left his companion's glowing one's.<br/><br/>Was it a shock that Pan would do such a thing? Perhaps, tugging that wet, sandy fabric down to leave wet kisses along the piece between Cy's legs. The leader of the island on his knees for another, who would have known, something Pan only did for one person. Usually it was the other way around for past lovers, but it's already been said that Cyrus was 'special'. Fingers wrapped around the base, lips swallowing hardening flesh down as he took him into his throat. His taste was unique, weight heavy on his tongue as he bobbed his head slowly. Eyes closed as thick lashes dusted over rounded cheeks of a full mouth. Sucking softly, he stroked in time with his hand as his tongue massaged every inch of Cyrus. Eyes opened, meeting that fiery gaze once more, taunting. Would Cyrus really leave this?