Zevran's breath stutters in his chest as it always does- not a finger, not a toy, not a cock- thin and hot and curling in ways those things cannot. To have this given, sweetly and freely, is not something he'll ever take for granted.

Intermittent shudders against Taas' hands holding him offer what his voice cannot, his toes curling against the lazy flick of that heated tongue, pressing against Taas' chest or catching in the sheets- cock stiff and beading with precum already, jerking with the sudden swell of sensation. It takes everything not to grind down- to not demand more- but he had taken his time.

Letting Taas do the same is only fair.