Sinjir swallows, and his eyes are a little too wide, trying to take it all in. The rod looks long up close, compared to the only-slight sounding that he's done before, and he can't quite believe that he's letting this happen to him. He isn't just willing; he's eager, thighs subtly trembling at Ba'al's light touch.

He fingers himself, now, because he needs a little stretching before the fourth one. Two, three fingertips, working in and out of his body, as he makes soft gasping sounds. And then he presses the fourth against him, presses down with his palm and leans his body into it. The stretch almost reaches the point of pain, and then it slides in, sudden and swift, settling heavily in his abdomen. The way his weight rests, and the size of this one, puts subtle pressure on his prostate, and he rocks his hips just a fraction, his body straining for a pleasure just out of reach.