Jacob doesn't believe him, one hand coming up to grip Tim but the jaw. Not painfully tight, but enough to feel how wet his skin is, the beer caught in his stubble. He snorts, thrusting in hard.

"You're a cheeky little sod aren't you?" He says, voice low and gravelly with lust, pounding away and feeling his balls begin to tighten. He'll cum soon enough, he knows that. There's something wicked and wonderful about using Tim like this, handing him a bit more roughly.

"I should pull out of you. Cum on your back and leave that prick of yours stiff and untouched, shouldn't I?"