Johnny moans outright, soft and hungry, when those fingers push past his lips, and his instinct is to suck them greedily but he can't, not with them pushing down like that, a sensation he's never felt, it makes him panic just a little but there's nothing he can do. He bucks helplessly against his captor, and as the fingers drag wetly down his throat he tilts up his chin, offering. Niall tastes like smoke.

The urge to move his hands comes before the order, to pull them away from their place against the wall, maybe to settle at Niall's hips and pull himself closer - but that won't be allowed, he knows that. When asked he almost finds it difficult to pull them away, but he manages, pressing his shoulder blades harder into the wall to take over the pressure, his hands moving outward, wrists extended and palms up, like a supplicant.