[ This is around the time he would have started to clock out mentally with his conquests, if not sooner; after a while, his mind would go elsewhere at the first sign of discomfort. It's difficult to compare the things he's done before to anything involving Iorveth, though. Every time trying something new with him ends up feeling like the first time he's ever done it, and in a way, maybe it is. After all, he'd never been touched by someone he actually cared for before Iorveth, never kissed someone who saw it as anything but a prelude to sex. Hells, he's pretty sure he'd never been with anyone who saw interacting with him as anything but a prelude to sex. Why would they? He encouraged it.

Iorveth's fingers are wonderfully attentive, stroking inside him in a way that makes him light-headed and dizzy in the best way, sending zings of pleasure up his spine. He's unaccustomed to such prolonged preparation, more used to perfunctory foreplay or none at all, and it feels strange to be slowly worked open like this. Strange in a good way, like Iorveth himself. ]

Stop, [ he says, reaching for Iorveth's forearm, before giving a sudden correction: ] Gods, no, don't stop.

[ He'd have to kill Iorveth if he stopped everything right now, and it feels a real fear — another thing that's strange in a good way. He's never been so certain that someone would stop before.

Sounding every bit the spoiled brat he is, he says, ] I was promised that I'd be fucked senseless, and it had better not only be by your fingers.