Andrew was fighting for his life. With Maxwell half buried in the blankets, his eyes glowing in the slight blanket cave he'd made for himself, and his mouth on his nether regions, Andrew was having a hard time keeping his wits about him. Maxwell wetting and sucking on his cock through the fabric of his underwear?
Diabolical. Andrew had never had that done before. Usually no one wanted to do that, especially after sleeping. Maxwell was nasty, and Andrew appreciated every moment of it.
Andrew clung to the sheets beside him, wanting to put his hands on Maxwell's head and force him onto his cock, but he knew better. This was Maxwell's time, and he was enjoying every moment. He could wait till 'breakfast'. Maxwell would be a bit more lenient after he had a 'taste'.
It was like Maxwell truly was an incubus and needed to meet a daily quota. At least with the way he behaved with Andrew. It was something he was going to bring up with the Doctor once they had tackled the main concern.
