None can compare to that which we of Amaurot can make, well do you know this. And, that such a setback would little count as one for your love making, is that which I well know.

[But he will cede that mortals are exceedingly bad at creating much of anything. It almost seems purposeful after a point. However, with Hythlodaeus rolling him on top, he barely gets a moment to properly think before those thrusts continue, and he tenses for only a moment. Then, he gives way to them, eases into the press of Hythlodaeus' thick phallus, his body aching from both being worn and pleasured.

With a nod, his half-lidded gaze resting on Hythlodaeus' features, he does just as he's told. Bracing himself on his knees, he readies himself for those telling thrusts. For the warmth of his lover to fill him as he already is. Looks forward to it, hungers for it, and the soft breaths and gasps of pleasure are quite the testament.]