He's reminded of Ba'al's strength, again; Sinjir can't do much to assist him with the movement, though he's not dead weight. He can move; just, when he tries to hold himself up, his muscles tremble.

But he settles back, slow arc of his spine molding to the way Ba'al holds him. Ba'al enters him, and Sinjir surprises himself by not being completely slick and loose, but by still having some tightness left in him. Either that or Ba'al is larger than Sinjir would have thought.

He surprises himself one other way, too: the feeling of being penetrated by someone, not something, makes his body do its best to stir with renewed arousal, makes his heart pound. His thighs are spread, straddling Ba'al's, his cock half-erect and wet and still penetrated by the heavy sound that feels like it pierces to the core of him. Sinjir, naked, and Ba'al clothed, and Sinjir deliciously used, and coddled, and kept.

A moan escapes him, and his hips twitch down, driving Ba'al deeper. Ba'al wants to keep Sinjir -- Sinjir wants to be kept. A hissed in gasp -- he can't actually get hard again so soon, not without -- "The device," he breathes. "Again?" He will plead, if that's what Ba'al wants. Or he will relent and be used, without his own pleasure. He wouldn't object to that either.