"Lovely for special occasions," he muses quite vaguely, justifiably distracted by every squirm and sound Billy makes.

He bites only a little possessively at the spot he's just been circling at, but he's also busy sliding slicked fingertips, one, then two, to rub up against the puckered warmth of Billy's hole, where he fully intends to be buried before very long. Draco only has so much patience, but he has plenty more to give.