Sinric moans softly, breathlessly, and honestly. His nipples harden like glass under the touch, letting the feeling wash over him.

His tiny cock hardens a little too, a useless reflex of pleasure.

His hands move smoothly, confidently on Athelstan. This he knows well enough to do on instinct. A twist of his wrist here, a stroke of his thumb there, varying his speed and tighten without thought.