Yussa can only whimper when Caleb gives that permission. He bows his head and shifts slightly, attempting to at least brace his forearms against the bed. His eyes are nearly closed as he starts to move again, grinding back whether Caleb is moving his fingers or not. The slide of them inside him, the way they rub and press against him, has tension building low in his belly. It certainly doesn't help matter that with his hips so low, practically flat to the bed, that he's grinding his clit against the blankets beneath him. The pressure isn't quite enough, but it still sends little jolts of pleasure through him.

He thinks the last time he felt this mindless, at least with anyone else in the room, must have been when he discovered the---intense properties of some of components he'd brought back from Issylra, the same ones he's now made into the aphrodisiac Caleb is enjoying. Yussa lowers himself again, managing to keep his weight braced but no longer interested in even the illusion of holding himself up other than to have something to push against as he tries to meet every thrust of Caleb's fingers. Through it all he can feel the snug pressure of the plug filling his ass, and now and then the angle is just right that Caleb's fingers rub past that pressure, too.

Yussa sinks into his body, into that awareness that doesn't extend outward so much as inward. He can still feel where Caleb spanked him earlier, it doesn't hurt but he's aware of it, the nerves there more tender. His cunt is a slick mess, his folds hot and sensitive enough that he it feels good when Caleb's hand, his knuckles, rub against them from the outside. If he can get his knees under him a bit he'd have more leverage to move his hips, but that would mean giving up the pressure of the mattress against his clit, varying though it is. So he's trapped where he is, unwilling to give up what he has but still wanting more.