"Look at you." Absently palming his own prick, Bashir watches as Jamie bends over the back of the sofa. "You're so wet. You're gonna make a mess of the sofa."

Walking over, he doesn't sound upset in the slightest as he moves to stand behind the other man. He trails his fingers up and down the slickest part of his thighs, spreading the moisture around, until he's satisfied that his own fingers are wet enough. With no warning, he slides two fingers up and inside. "And I'm gonna make a mess of you."

"Fingers are nice, I find, but it's not enough. Not big enough. Is it?"