Yet again, as Yussa makes an opulent and obscene display of himself, Caleb's gaze grows heavy with desire and bright with awe as it drags over him, as if every inch of his body is a revelation to be studied and admired. The way he moves is sinuous and graceful and erotic in a way that surely must be practiced, and the way he smiles--gods, that coy little curl of his lips makes his blood run hot all on its own.

And it isn't just that Yussa is ridiculously hot and knows how to show off; it's that he knows how to give Caleb the most appealing visual while also being very skilled at riding his cock, rocking against and with Caleb's thrusts with a perceptive awareness of what feels good to his patron. It's easy to understand why a night with him commands such a high price. Pleasure spreads through Caleb like honey, sweet and syrupy and thick. He can feel the heat of a deep flush burning in his skin, his mouth hangs open, panting and gasping, and his hands frequently grip Yussa's hips like a man clinging to the last thread of his sanity.

The sound of skin clapping skin is a dizzying constant. He watches the length of his cock glide with decadent ease in and out of his lover's perfectly stretched hole, feels the exquisite pressure and friction and heat of his soft passage, and moans loud and low the next time Yussa drops his hips down to take him in all the way, grinding in his lap.

"Like that," he urges in a breathless rasp. "I want to come deep in your ass."

One thing Caleb is learning about Yussa's delightful aphrodisiac concoction is that it skews his understanding of just how high his pleasure can climb before peaking. He hasn't lasted any longer than normal, but he is feeling everything with more intensity, like the dial on his sensitivity is turned up to eleven. Only now is he beginning to recognize the familiar tells that his orgasm is drawing close, within reach.