The way Sinjir moans goes strained and softer. He aches for the pain maybe even more than he aches for the pleasure: it feels so good to let someone else have control of his body. He squirms, hands clenched into fists, then unclenched as he remembers that he doesn't have to restrain himself from touching himself.

But Ba'al beats him (heh, beats him) to it.

Oh, god -- he loves this. He's scared, more than anything, of what Ba'al will do when he realizes how much Sinjir loves this. It's a much deeper vulnerability than Sinjir had realized.

"I am dangerous." He spreads himself under Ba'al's hands. "So are you." Firm eye contact, daring and almost belligerent.