The added tension at his scalp parted Albus's lips around a silent gasp. He couldn't muster any will to be surprised. Because of course that was what Gellert wanted. Because Gellert was still Gellert. Gellert who had delighted in his embarrassment, in the vulnerability of his feelings, who had twisted all of it for his own amusement, who had seen into him so deeply with little more than a glance and pulled every one of his strings. It would have been easier to hate him for it if it hadn't been so...
Albus couldn't even insist that it was ridiculous, to lust as much for Gellert as after him, to feed off of Gellert's desire as his own. There was no use. He still felt tethered, bound, and entirely caught up in the want that still hummed through Gellert's arresting figure, still taut and sweat-damp. Albus's eyes dipped nearly closed, trying to keep himself steady amid the intoxicating waves that beset his senses.
"Please," he breathed, tipping his head toward the drag of Gellert's thumb, his own hands smoothing along the sharp angles of Gellert's pelvis.