Wordless but far from soundless, Yussa quickly shakes apart under Caleb's attention, releasing his finger to take a desperate hold on his arm instead as he tightens around his cock, which feels impossibly good. His orgasm is no less beautiful for being the third time Caleb has seen it tonight. Watching him tremble, gasping for breath and flushed, Caleb feels another swell of pride at having caused it. His own climax is approaching like a runaway cart.

Considerate but firm with his own need, he guides the slim brown thigh he's been holding around his waist as well so he can lean over Yussa and kiss him. The press of his mouth is hard and artless. He is panting too much to deepen the kiss, or even for it to last long. His head is full of nothing but how gorgeous Yussa looks, how incredible he feels fluttering around him, how much he loves how well his smaller elven form fits under him. How fucking lucky he is to be in this position at all.

"Yussa, Yussa," he moans, gravel rough, and kisses him again, brief but heated. His hips stutter, pushing in with a needy grind rather than longer, measured thrusts. Gods, he wants to come. He's going to come. It's just a matter of how, and he's rapidly losing control over that, too.