Yussa trembles in Caleb's arms as the other man's hand moves, fingers stroking against his slick cunt as his palm offers pressure against his clit. His hand slides over the back of Caleb's and he puts pressure over the fingers teasing his entrance, trying to push two of them into his aching cunt. He's soaked already, arousal rushed on by the nature of feeling anything in the Feywild and Caleb's own rough care.

He presses against Caleb's hand as much as he can to keep it where it is as his hips move, seeking his fingers and the friction against his palm. Yussa groans and tries to adjust the angle of his hips to get what he wants.

He bows his head, resting his damp brow against his forearm. It's been a while since he felt Caleb pressed against his back like this and it reminds him how much taller the other man is, how broad he is by comparison.

"Don't stop," he breathes, voice more ragged than he thought it would be. He doesn't think Caleb really needs the encouragement, but there's no harm in giving it when this started so suddenly.