No.

[ All previous sentiment regarding Jack playing with toys have been disregarded -- Johnny just hadn't taken into account the fact that his demand for his lover's attention and favor extends to this. He knows exactly what he's trying to do, the minx, and his eyes darken. Okay, he has to admit that it's really hot, but it stirs an intense longing in him that threatens to cut the striptease short.

But he clings onto it stubbornly, reveling in the way Jack looks at him, like he's the only person who matters. In light of their previous fight, this is so much more important than anything else. He's starved of their intimacy, their play, and he climbs onto him, taking the dildo and setting it aside carefully.

He guides Jack's hand to the expanse of his chest, just underneath the open zipper. He thinks of the wetness on the dildo, the slick heat of his mouth. ] Mm. You're killing me. Maybe I should throw that dildo into a fire and burn it up. Because these lips -- [ His fingers trace over that plush, sinful mouth, his gaze openly hungry. ] -- this mouth is all mine, and I hate sharing.