Samandriel was desperate, sweet little moans pulled freely from his throat. He had to fight to keep his hips still, to let Carrick have exactly his way with him.
"Please," he started again, the sentence briefly cut off by a particularly loud, drawn out sound of pleasure. The rest of it was broken up by little whimpers as he fought to keep command of his brain at the very least. "Deny me. Please. I haven't- I'm not... Not being good. Want to be Good." He cried out loudly again, that hand pushing him ever closer to an edge he was fighting as much as possible. "Fuck. Fuck, Carrick please...please. Erastes." Close. He was so close. Given over to peppering his debauched sounds with desperate swearing pleas that combined with the writhing of his body made it unclear if he convinced himself he needed the vampire in him, to let him come, or to take his hands off of him. "Erastes, please. I beg you. Your pleasure...please...please." He'd keep moving until the vampire forced him to remain in one exact position again.