Tarn purrs his approval as Vos shifts, the angle changing and becoming more accommodating. He continues to thrust deep into the small valve, encouraging the slow leak of lubricant around his finger. Only once Vos is practically dripping in his lap does he pull back, smearing his fingers together to spread the slick fluid, then presses back in with an additional digit.

"Is that good?" he croons, scissoring and twisting inside Vos with deliberate slowness, curling his fingers into the largest clusters of nodes.

"Or would you prefer more?"