[There's a little cut off response as Steve preoccupies his mouth, the sound melting into a quiet exhale of a moan. Soft and otherwise sweet, smiling against his lips where he legitimately otherwise cannot help himself.]

Part of me wants to ask for a handwritten book of all your poetry- but I know if I ask you'll actually do it-

[But he is asking anyway by putting the idea out there. It's still something he'd treasure anyway, like he does with Steve's drawings. Either the paper ones that he keeps in his drawer, or the newer ones that are all meant to go into that digital frame on his desk. He'll keep everything Steve makes for him because he treasures it all.

Each of it unique. Not something anyone else can ever give him. Steve's been amazing in that way.]

If we're not careful- by the way- I'm liable- I'm... tired. I might fall asleep.

[Getting drunk and having amazing sex will do that to a normal person. So he feels like a fair warning is in order.]