The sheer need that tore through Gellert's body was tremendous. He felt as if he had been waiting for weeks for this -- and then he realised that was exactly what he had done. Waited for over a month for Albus to give in to his desires. Gellert had never waited so long for someone he wanted in his entire life. And it was torturous.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Gellert managed to snap out, "You aren't going to break me, you know."
Because it seemed that was what Albus was doing, trying to make sure that Gellert would feel no pain or some other such rot. Pain was part of it, in Gellert's opinion. Part of the pleasure of it. Gellert pressed down hard against Albus's fingers, forcing them in to the knuckles. Or maybe, it occurred to him, this was Albus's idea of revenge. Gellert had hurt him, no doubt about that, on some deep unforgivable emotional level. Etcetera, etcetera, all those ridiculous things that people like Albus ruminated over for the rest of their lives and confessed to their priests in hope of closure.
Gellert could feel Albus's hard length pressed up against him and he knew he wanted it as bad as Gellert did. He could feel the blood pulsing through Albus's shaft, Albus's heartbeat arrhythmic to Gellert's own.
"Hurry up," he said, rocking back against Albus's cock and hand once more.