Conrad hadn't even heard Wesley speak, otherwise, he would have answered him. No, for a moment there, Conrad's entire attention was laser-focused on Wesley and what he was doing with his hands. The other man was on top of him, moaning and working himself open and the Brit truly forgot how to breathe. Conrad could see every muscle flex and that bare, chiseled chest rising and falling with heavy breath..
For him. All of this, for him. Because Wesley wanted him.
He was yanking at that belt in some genuine attempt to get out of the knot that bound him to the headboard. It was too much, just having to witness this and not being able to touch Wesley. But that belt somehow held, despite Conrad's honest to god effort to free himself. That struggling only became more forceful as Wesley took his cock in his hand, lining himself up with that hot, tight entrance.
That first thrust had Conrad hissing out another curse, and not purely because Wesley had claimed he liked it. That tight, welcoming heat that squeezed and caressed him had Conrad pushing himself arguably too far, too quickly, the tip of his dick hitting deep within Wesley's ass.
"Wes," he breathed, the urgency in his voice damn near demanding, "Let me go -- Please, I want to touch you --"