Hermes got his legs around Carrick as high as they could go, each of his vampire's thrusts punctuated by a sharp moan. His hands couldn't keep still, wandering wherever he could reach from knotting into the man's hair to worshiping his shoulders and biceps. Everywhere but his own cock.
He didn't beg for his master to come. Instead he just stretched his neck for him, baring his throat in a sign of clear submission, of desire for Carrick to take his fill of him in every way possible while he kept on singing for him, kept on loving him so close to falling apart himself.