Under other circumstances, Sawyer would have all of his attention. This was just…something else.

Hunter isn’t shy about the noises he makes or the little murmurs of encouragement; but he’s quiet so only Sawyer can hear. His attention bounces from Sawyer and how he feels, what he’s doing and Lennon - what he looks like, what he’s doing, his expressions for the strangers sitting just feet away from him.

He swallows a moan and buries his nose against Sawyers neck. He smells sweet…like homemade cookies. Edible.

But something makes him lift his head and looks towards the stage again.