[ There's an undeniable want driving Lyney when red flags tell him to just... shelf it. Is he scared? That clarity with their words will disappear from the haze they've found themselves in.

Sex is easiest.
Words are simple when you're willing to lie.

But, deep down, Lyney wants the haze to disappear and that want they both have to remain. He's nervous it won't be. Like a magic trick, what will be the reveal? That thought gnaws at him, keeps him going forward with soft grinds – smooth from his slacks, but Lyney can feel how stiff the man is aching beneath him. He doesn't stop, he can't. Those little, slow grinds continue on as the boy kisses back just as chaste, a flutter of heat before he nuzzles into Wriothesley's jawline. ]

I'm sore, but unless you plan on checking me in the ribs... my mouth is still usable.

[ And here's the transition – a slow and agonizing pull away. The boy kneels slowly before this grand Duke, with a kingdom surrounded by pipes and ironworks – less of a servant and more of a devotee with how he looks up. Lyney's hand trembles just a bit before both settle at the man's length, pulling his tip just within reach for Lyney's mouth.

He doesn't pounce yet.

Of course he doesn't. ]

I'm alright, okay? Just... keep this going with me.