[Hot on the heels of the white-hot pleasure that sears through his veins, a slower burn of satisfaction follows. This is why he doesn't do things like this in the field, when he's exposed — because of how addicting it is to have his eyelids go heavy and his limbs boneless, and have every last thought chased from his head because he's too busy being centered in his body for any of them.]

As gorgeous as you?

[The fact that the consonants slur and smudge a little together doesn't really detract any from the dry sarcasm still laced through them; he ought to reach down and fix himself but that would involve moving either of his arms at the moment, and he doesn't want to do that right now regardless.]

Hah. You don't think I'm the sort not to return the favor, do you...?

[He's never liked the imbalance, after all. Never liked taking more than he gives. Never liked taking less than he gives, either — better when he can just give regardless of what he gets back at all. He never gives enough. He'll never give enough to —

Fuck, that thoughtless bliss was short-lived, wasn't it.]

But come back up here first. I want to taste myself on your mouth.