Fenris feels trapped between Astarion's hands and mouth, but no desire to get away. The steady stroke and tease of his mouth urge hips to lift, aching for more, and he ends up sinking back toward the stretching penetration. There is no distress, restless movement that might indicate discomfort, now that he seems to have some expectations.

He has his own task, though. His lips slide the length of Astarion's cock before Fenris finally lets it slip into his mouth, barely more than the first inch. He heard that groan and he wants to hear more, determined now not to just lie here. His tongue is not tentative, neither is the hand that strokes the rest. A careful suck, and more daring scrape of teeth, then--

His head falls back against the bed and sharper moan escapes as Astarion's fingers twist, rubbing differently as they slide back. There is no time for him to fully recover: the thrust back in is sharp and deep. Unbidden, his hips jerk, forcibly meeting Astarion's hand as if there might be more for him. Raw force certainly seems to have gotten his attention. His leg jerks in Astarion's grip, thigh pushing against the other man's shoulder.

A few breathless curses fall from his lips and his cock throbs in Astarion's hand. That is the danger of having gone so long with so little: almost everything becomes temptation.