[Frustration burns in Cain at being pinned, but it mingles in with a surge of arousal, knowing there's little he can do to fight the hand at the back of his neck. He can't even fully turn to see what Achilles is doing - he can only feel it in the barest press of a body, staccato breath fluttering somewhere behind, a burst of warmth gusting across his skin. He's too aware of his own thighs, slick between from the mockery of fucking. And maybe it's better this won't escalate to penetration. Maybe that would be too much, in this state, an overstimulation he couldn't bear.
This is easier. Without facing the other man, some of that tethered emotional connection hardwired in by drugs is a little more muted.
Cain waits. He's expecting a more satisfying aftermath, because he's already missing the physical contact of bodies wrapped around each other, and he did like it better when he could see the man's features. Being turned aside and used like this... despite the burning of his face and the twitch of a spent cock, it feels disconnected.]
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This is easier. Without facing the other man, some of that tethered emotional connection hardwired in by drugs is a little more muted.
Cain waits. He's expecting a more satisfying aftermath, because he's already missing the physical contact of bodies wrapped around each other, and he did like it better when he could see the man's features. Being turned aside and used like this... despite the burning of his face and the twitch of a spent cock, it feels disconnected.]