If he didn't know better, Leiland would have been convinced that Percival was trying to murder him all over again simply by not letting up. It hadn't taken long for his cock to spring back to life, fully alert and ready for a second helping as soon as Percival's face reappeared from underneath him. Tongue was quickly replaced with fingers, and for all of the intensity that Leiland thought he'd felt so far, this seemed to spike it a hundred percent. Writhing underneath Percival's ministrations, Leiland was left gapping at the ceiling as he was being provoked from top to bottom, every nerve in his body flaring with pleasure.
As three fingers were replaced with four, though, and the stretch accompanied a deep swallow down on his cock, Leiland twisted in place, the mantra of grunt, groans, and moans that had been echoing in the room forming into gasps and desperate pleas behind the incoherent noises.
"Fuck me," Leiland pleaded, moving one hand that had been twisted up in the sheets until it had gone numb to tug lightly at Percival's hair, trying to pull him up. "Fuck me. Kiss me. Look at me. Please. Let me see you. I need to. I need to see you."
The broken sob that left Leiland's lungs after the pleas was joined by another weak tug at Percival's hair and an even quieter, "Please."