Sinjir's started to get used to the sensation of having his cock penetrated by the sound. In fact, it feels a little like it's always been that way, that he's always been stretched and wrapped tight, pierced to the root of him.

Ba'al grinds against him, a slight shift in angle, and this makes him feel -- it's not the reality, he knows, there's long centimeters separating them -- but it makes him feel like Ba'al's cock is grinding right into the base of the sound, his prostate crushed between. It makes him sort of convulse, and he lets out a sob of sensation. Gods, any one of these sensations would have been enough for a truly memorable kinky encounter, but Ba'al has expertly layered them on top of one another, until Sinjir is an absolute mess.

He manages to breathe. And, of course, as soon as he has even a fraction of the breath necessary, he taunts the man who currently is inside him, who is stronger than him and who has control of the room's healing device, who holds all of Sinjir's potential pleasures in his hand like strings.

"You," manages Sinjir, sing-song, "liiiiike me. You like me," and, stars, Sinjir is an idiot, but idiocy is fun and maybe Ba'al will punish him for it. That would be nice.