For a moment, because he can, Draco lets his tongue trace a faint line down the soft skin he's just tormented, but then since Billy asks him to so very nicely, he nuzzles his lips in close enough now to bite all the harder, trailing another path toward the other side of his throat.

His fingers trace down Billy's sides, nails catching a bit at his hips to hold him in place for a moment while he slowly shifts to find the best... angle. Then his palms are bracing solidly on the tabletop to steady that instead for when his own hips pick up a sharper rhythm of hard, shallow thrusts, the impact of which is enough to shake the table beneath them.

"Oh- fuck," he gasps unevenly when he falters just long enough to catch his breath, his hips only momentarily slowing the intoxicating pull all around him to a tight drag before he picks up his pace again. The table rattles a little dangerously.