Michael's mouth is hotter than his neck had been, that first night Caleb had buried his face in it and slept better than he had since coming to this messed up city. And he tastes good, sharp and musky and like he knows what he's doing. Caleb licks into his mouth, and he's pretty sure he moans, but he can't tell under the whoops rising up around them. Fuck, he tastes good. He feels good.