The angel wasn't being shy at all about how much he was enjoying this. Wherever Carrick had figured out he had a fondness for blades (and Samandriel had his suspicions,) he hadn't been lied to. "Yes, Erastes," he moaned, any sense of rhythm in his breathing gone ages ago as he panted and moaned and pulled against his restraints as much as he could to try to get more.
"Fuck me?" he asked, shifting his head to look over at Carrick. "Please, Erastes. I need you so bad. Need you so deep in me. Please. Being so good for you. Hurts without you there."