Gansey makes a helpless, strangled sort of sound at the way that he touches him. That thrill of how it feels to have someone else's touch on him, and how he squeezes against the head at the apex of the stroke. He can feel it on the air, that the suggestion of the glass is still there, and even if it hadn't broken, it still somehow feels like it could.

His face is flushed, and he can't help reaching up, palming fingers against Declan's skin, the slight scrape of trimmed-short nails just against his stomach. "Declan-" his name a heated gasp on his mouth, somewhere between a demand and a plea. Because he wants more, doesn't want Declan to wreck him this easy, despite how pleasure makes his hips twitch.

He doesn't want to make it this simple for him, either.

"I want you," he breathes, earnest and debauched all at once.