There was a low growl of frustration when he was held still, now utterly unable to do anything at all in reaction except to react. It was obvious that he was straining, low rumbles of pleasure and vocalizations of need being all too easy to hear while his hands twisted until they could hold on to the scarf keeping them bound. He was falling apart, loud moans of pleasure mixing in to the trembling of his muscles inspired by the way his Dom was handling him.

The hand at his hair only multiplied everything else and he turned toward her, pressing his own face to the side of her cheek while sloppily trying to press kisses where he could. His Dom was out of his reach, but he needed to do something, needed to share and do and feel and this was about the only way he could do it while his deeper pleasure was entirely in the hands of his Dom.