Yussa closes his eyes when he feels Caleb spill inside him. He's pliant in the other man's grip, a perfect and willing vessel for his pleasure as he rides it out. He catches the broken, breathless praise, knowing only a smattering of what Caleb is actually saying and knowing that almost purely through exposure. His knowledge of Zemnian at this point is likely filthy.

He doesn't know how long they're like that. All he knows is that as he's able to focus again, he needs to be off his feet.

"Caleb," he murmurs, reaching back to stroke his hand into the other man's damp hair. "Please, the ground."

Yussa would rather not just fall from Caleb's grip, but he's willing to if the other wizard cannot quite grasp the request. The slick, soft heat of him aches pleasantly and throbs around the cock still buried in him.