His hips buck up, and he can't quite bite back the cry. It makes his body seize up -- he swears he can feel his nerves tingling from thighs to his throat, an abrupt convulsion from pleasure too much too handle. A half-orgasm bubbles up in him, doesn't quite complete, and then he's whimpering as Ba'al's fingers press the balls in deeper.

A sharp breath at the pressure of the next ball. "I can't," he breathes, "I can't," one hand going to grip Ba'al's free forearm. It's a protest, but a protest that is absolutely not his safe word.