The hand in his hair hurt so deliciously, and he could already feel a cramping ache starting in his legs as he was so unused to staying like this for very long. Her shifting hips momentarily left him without air, but he quickly adjusted without letting up from his efforts.
He had, after all, always prided himself on his work ethic.
He had been so hard for so long, and hearing her make even the smallest sound was making it even worse. His hands were so close, all it would have taken was a small shift to touch himself, but he refused. He wanted the pain, the denied desire, the complete subsuming of his self in favour of someone else.
He continued with his new pattern, concentrating on circles and flicks as his face grew wetter and his hands fisted even harder into his robes.