The first, Albus suspected was all too true, and in more ways than Gellert meant. Still, part of him wanted to draw things out a bit, to find some sort of reflection for his own frustration. That part, however, was rather abruptly overridden as Gellert's body drew his hand in deeper, jolting his awareness down to the almost entirely physical.
It really wasn't fair, how stunning Gellert was. How perfectly ageless his body seemed. Every single inch of him seemed made to be touched. Albus's mind's eye supplied every bruise, every scratch, every lingering mark that Gellert's skin had yet to know. It was a dangerous temptation, the impulse to let out a simple bit of magic-- something small, something feasible, but something that would stain Gellert's skin for a short while. It was possible that Gellert's attention would be abruptly and entirely derailed into a swift interrogation.
He could wait. A few more minutes, he could before leaving a hand print stained against Gellert's skin. But if he was waiting there, he couldn't wait elsewhere. So it was only a matter of moments while Albus pulled his hand free, letting his tongue wet his palm to slick his own length with moisture. After holding himself steady enough to begin slowly sinking his cock into Gellert, Albus's hand immediately set to pinning Gellert's hips in place. He wasn't going to wait, but he wasn't going to hurry, either. Not yet, anyway.
"Why?" he asked, the breath of a word almost harshly strained as he tried to combat how lightheaded and dizzy he felt.