Volkner doesn't make it easy to think rationally like this, in his space and casually draping his arms around him and wearing the feral little grin he's known for sporting as a rebellious and surprisingly risqué performer. The way it still skips his heartbeat reminds him that he may never get away from his roots as a mere fanboy, especially when he's the only one the idol could possibly be addressing at the current moment. Still, Roark can't help himself, unfolding his legs and spreading so his boyfriend could come closer, hands idly sneaking under an oversized hoodie ( his own, actually, it was plain enough not to attract attention compared to the stuff his agency kept trying to put him in outside of the concerts, and it worked out as a perfect excuse for volkner to keep with him ), tracing contours he had memorized in a repeated pattern, thumbs pressing gently into the crest of his hips like Volkner was his personal worry rock.

The suggestions hang as Roark hums in thought, deliberating on how to best make use of their room. He doesn't quite have an answer yet before Volkner's expression softens, kissing him so easily in return before he moves his lips to escape under his messy hair, a cold nose tickling against his neck as he's nuzzled affectionately like an excited cat. His hands slide up so he can wrap his arms around him instead, canting his cheek into fluffy blond and inhaling. He missed him, more than anything.

"Mm... I don't want to block the view the whole time, y'know? I was wonder if you'd like to see the view of the skyline at some point, too. That'd be kinda mean to have you blindfolded so you can't see all the people who don't even know you're in a secret relationship, getting totally railed right after a concert, I think," he teases, certainly considering not staying in one place with how nice this room is. "...Maybe we can face the camera together..? There's a whole mirror right there to look at. There is also the balcony, if you're feeling really bold. No one knows what your moans sound like, technically—" That would be a surprise even for him, especially with how much Volkner likes to vocalize his pleasure. But... there's a whole suite for them to choose from. He's perhaps encumbered by choices here!

And once Roark gets the very stupid brain going, Volkner hums to himself, listening intently, debating on all the ideas that are now flowing. Really, for how easy it is to get Roark flustered and stammering with words alone he has a far more devious streak than Volkner would've ever realized. ( maybe too devious, actually— ) "No no no, no balcony, do you want me to freeze out there?" The little chuckle and huff are at least telling he's not upset at how much Roark's mind is wandering, but really? The balcony? He's cold enough on a normal day, thank you very much! The possibility of somehow being found out this high up isn't even the first of his concerns in comparison!

"Don't worry too much about the view— it's not like it's the first time I'm staying at a place like this." And it would likely not be the last either in his career. There's a small laugh, hearing exactly the kind of stupid thoughts he fuels in Roark— well, maybe he's earned some kind of bragging rights when he can't tell anyone else about this, huh? "Don't let it get in the way of whatever you want to do, okay? I'll be fine just thinking of all the people in the audience that don't get to know how much I'm getting railed behind closed doors." ( he refuses to admit how that thought is, in fact, at least a little bit of a turn on. so many people out there who want him carnally, and roark is the only one he would ever allow to have what they all can only dream of... yeah, the thought does things to him— )

Yet, he's still more than happy to hold him as closely as possible, far too content after being spent like this. If it weren't for the sheer amount of exertion, he'd pass out right there, but he feels stinky enough to stay awake to get through to the nice bathroom that was actually big enough for two lovers. "I'm just so lucky that you like me so much to let me try new things with you... Although, I guess your average person doesn't have to make every night count, huh? Heh." He can't help but trace his fingers up and down his back, savoring the sensations to remember later on. There's plenty of aftercare to indulge in, and he can't help himself. Rarely does Volkner feel so warm to the touch, he has to take advantage of the poor guy actually having some circulation before the post-coital bliss wears off. "This sure taught us something about ourselves, that's for sure—wh—you want to what—?!"

He wants to see them?! Roark is pink all over again, honestly not even sure if any of them are even in focus at all, and he has to pull himself from his love's neck to confirm that's what he's asking about. The shit-eating grin doesn't lie, unfortunately, and Roark is baffled at how quickly Volkner has managed to bounce back. "I—It's... somewhere on the bed," he cautiously states, looking around himself and eventually finding his phone hiding between the folds of blankets and towels. Suddenly, the whole ordeal is a lot more embarrassing than it was a few minutes ago.

"Come ooooon, can you blame me? I'm basically your model there, I need to know if I did things right!" He really can't help himself with the teasing, hands reaching for his phone, fingers wiggling while waiting to finally receive it the moment Roark seriously starts looking for it, considers his request, and dies some more actually seeing what's now saved to his device. And when it's finally in his own hands, Volkner is quite shameless too, happily looking and swiping through the newly made gallery, the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks the only indication that he's not entirely unaffected. ( damn, if he wasn't already so exhausted after such a long round he'd be maybe a little too eager to go at it again. it's not his fault his love is good at this after all! ) "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're pretty good at holding the camera while I'm sucking the life out of you." As if that won't hit Roark where it's going to kill him a little more—

Finally, Volkner is satisfied enough to hand the phone back with a hum and a chuckle, every picture reviewed and approved. "You did great! And I sure hope you'll be enjoying these in a few days, I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I didn't leave you with a good enough gift, huh?" And he waits for Roark to lay back down to plant another kiss on his cheek, the bastard he is. If it wasn't for the intensity of everything they just did, he might enjoy the teasing of the aftermath more than the act itself. Almost. "Just remember to keep them safe, I trust you." Quite the proof of how much and how openly he loves Roark, isn't it? A luxury no one else in the world would ever be afford from the mighty Thunderfang. ( as if it's thunderfang the one giving his love so freely, here. )

As long as he's servicing him well, that's all that he can really come back to in his head. As long as his mouth is wet enough and his tongue is pressing hard enough to feel tight, he's more than happy to bear the fatigue—and a stuggled declaration almost goes unheard, nearly missing the moment to prepare for his reward. His head is held in place as his love finally reaches his limit, the telltale twitches so much stronger in mere moments, and Roark holds his breath, nose nearly pressing against pale skin as he feels seed spill down his throat. It's surprisingly more difficult to stay put when his instincts tell him to breathe—he can't fail his husband right at the end, though! Still, he can't help the way his body reacts to the sudden move, finding the rare moment of his husbandbeing obectively commanding a little too hot to bear—a blend of a groan and a purr erupt, blocked by spasming heat and trapping it in the back of his throat with the rest of the seed that's there, too.

Even if the corners of his eyes prick slightly with a pair of stray tears, brows furrowed, he takes every last drop Volkner has for him, unable to help but pant for air when he's finally pulled away and allowed to breathe again. Lips hang partially open, wet with a trail of drool and the tail end of an orgasm, connected to his love's heat until gravity takes over. Burgundy is as hazy as it was before, not entirely there—Roark is flushed, but he feels hot all over now that his own body has been in such a state of overstimulation and denial. Still, the entire encounter can only be described as incredibly attractive, with Volkner's reactions spurring him on ( his body hates him for not letting go ). All he can taste is his love, parched but unconsciously looking for more—maybe it's gotten worse with his own needs so strongly influenced like this, but Volkner is correct in his assumption that they couldn't possibly be done here.

He's barely able to even process the questions that come after a much-needed break on Volkner's part, slowly blinking when it comes to what he needs. Is he serious? Does... he want to reward him even more...? His poor heat is spent, what else could he ask of him...? "Y...You," comes an expected response after a beat, finally easing up on his grip so he can hang his head down for a moment, resting against his thigh—his heart feels like it's beating too fast, too much blood circulating around with that potent side effect of getting nearly drenched in honey. He still wanted more to do for him, but when he sounds so concerned.. Roark can't help his honesty, finally bringing his head back up to gaze at Volkner once more, holding lightly onto his leg for support. "I need you so badly it hurts," he admits quietly, "My head...so foggy...it's so warm—can we go to the shower..? I want to—I need to do more for you, please.."

Well. Well. Volkner really can't say no, can he? Roark might actually die right there and then if he did, but... he just can't help himself, finding himself still riled up despite his love just about succeeding in sucking the life out of him entirely. That, and he really doesn't have it in him to refuse anything when Roark is staring at him like his life is in his hands. Volkner takes a deep breath, hand in his hair turning to gentle strokes, taking a step back to plant another kiss on his desperate love's forehead before pulling his hand away. "Okay— I need a shower anyways... It'll be easier to do anything else you want in there." The admission does not lessen the furious blush on his cheeks in any way, mind already running with the possibilities and quite happily turning against him in this regard, but well— the sooner, the better, right? At least the one time that he doesn't think Roark has it in him to be slow and intentional in his teasing—

His heat has long since felt trapped, each reaction a monumental surge that shoots right down through his stomach—if he let himself, he could make a mess right there and Volkner didn't need to do anything but let Roark be at his whims. He certainly wasn't kidding when he told him that he wanted to do nasty things to him, but the pheromones have created such a different beast that Roark can't tell if they're even close to wearing off, thoughts far too hazy to find his logical train of thought and inevitably coming back to wanting that heat in his mouth instead. He stares, waiting for anything from his love, hopeful when he finally takes a breath to compose himself. Really, anything to make him happy works for him, but he receives even better—lids fluttering shut when he feels the hands carefully curl into his hair and the remains of half of a horn. The tightness in the pit of his stomach is near painful as he's far too excited about what comes next, the anticipation too much to bear, unable to help but press his legs together. The validation is all he needs to survive, Volkner doesn't need to deal with such pesky side effects, no?

He gives a quiet noise of agreement, relaxing what he can to make his breathing quiet as possible, working explicitly with the pace Volkner sets for him—he rides his tongue against the underside of his heat, enchanted by the sensation of feeling his love's pulse when he follows along a vein. It adjusts with the volume, curling against the tip as he pulls out, sucking against the motion until Volkner pulls his head back in as far as is comfortable. He must be doing something right as he hears Volkner struggle to keep himself quiet—each gasp and inhale adding another hit of addicting pleasure. His efforts are even verbally acknowledged, and Roark just feels giddy down to the heat he's desperately trying to keep contained, painfully hard, doubling his efforts to give Volkner every reason to use him as he sees fit, just because he can. There's a slight shift in his pace as he continues, Roark keenly aware he must certainly be feeling the rise to get himself off using him freely—the throbs and twitches are impossible to hide from someone as hyperfocused as he is. Such a compounding of signs is almost too much to bear, a certain wetness leaking from the overstimulation the pheromones are adding to an already lewd favor, even for them. He can't help himself, though, trying to take a little more as his thumbs massage the underside of what he couldn't take without making too much noise against his love's will.

Somehow, even when he was the one giving Roark explicit permission, even demanding to a certain extent to be serviced like this, it still catches Volkner completely off guard to see his love happily give up any attempt at teasing and tormenting to immediately get to work. Whatever she stuffed her honey with was too effective— and the moment Roark's hands find their way around his thighs, Volkner might as well be gone.

He's half expecting a sly remark, a complete stop, anything along those lines, but maybe unsurprisingly by now, he's met with silence instead, a greedy, hazy stare and Roark picking up the work at his own pace— and that's enough, really, Volkner feels himself shiver, parting his legs a little bit, just enough to ensure he keeps his balance now that Roark is fully committed to sucking the soul out of him— and he's already working pretty well on getting there, more intense than anything Volkner remembers him trying before, another sharp inhale before he finds himself forced to let go of his love's horn to cover his mouth, whatever noises manage to escape at least muffled enough to be kept between the two of them, his hand still tangled in his love's hair gripping tighter without thinking, trying to find some. Roark certainly has him fighting for his life now, and if he could think, he might spare a thought for what will come next.

( he might need to sleep for a day after this. )

From then on, it really doesn't take much longer, soft swears the only noise spilling out into the silence, and it's all downwards from there for Volkner— he doesn't know how long it's been, but he feels it, he's close, he's so close already—

"Hey— I-I'm going to—" it's barely muttered between fingers and gasps, and he doesn't get to finish his shaky sentence, a noise slightly louder than he would've liked cutting him off, holding Roark's head right where it is with his heat in his mouth as he hits his high, all of his release contained to his love's mouth. Volkner gasps, takes one deep breath after the other, and finally comes back to the present, looking down at his love with a flush that refuses to fade, pulling him away from his heat with a shiver and a gasp, hoping against all odds that this action alone won't do anything else to him, sensitive as he is right now. He needs a moment to breathe and compose himself after all that, or else he might die for real here—

It goes away the moment he finds what he needs to untangle—just the belt, really, and the rest is pulled down enough along thighs to scrunch against itself, excited heat freed from clothing and resting against scales. Roark would save some of these activities for after a relaxing bath, save for the moments they were so invigorated after a long battle they weren't thinking at all, but he didn't care at all, lips against a pale shaft and nearly worshipping—this is hardly the kind of behavior he would usually exhibit, typically more teasing and talkative. But the pheromones have him in some type of way, handling his love like an antique, fingertips caressing and maneuvering with gentle pressure, lips lingering at the base, even dipping lower to carefully trace looser skin with the tip of his tongue. The flush on his cheeks emanates heat, but he doesn't appear to be bothered by the subconscious level of embarrassment for behaving like this purely at just the opportunity to do something that's essentially a weekly habit between the two of them.

For some reason, it was like he didn't deserve such a privilege, his love just that far out of reach for someone like him, and he was lucky enough to even turn his way—damn, no wonder people surrounded the idol. He felt helpless to the surge of sheer endorphins as Volkner continues to gift him affection and access, even nodding quietly as he's warned. "I promise I won't," he responds quietly, clearly taking the simple notion to heart as if commanded, though he can't help but fear he could be despite being the one to have a muffle between the two. Fingers finally glide along heat in a back and forth motion, staring longingly at a flushed tip as it suffers the with Roark's attention to detail, ensuring every dip and curve feels contact with his hands.

... Not that it gets any easier the moment Roark finds heat, usual slow, almost painful teasing thrown out the window and forgotten entirely, hands and lips alike already finding heat with that selfsame desperation, not at all slowing down just because he's been given free reign to do whatever he wants, as usual. Now Volkner has to fear for his own life, really— Roark as he normally is already takes his soul out of his body with all of his bastard behavior, the slow, methodical teasing and riling up intended to torment him and drag out the wait for as long as he can, but this? This is... something else entirely, really, for better or worse. And here he thought he wouldn't find himself as riled up if Roark just got to it, oh how wrong he was. The quick promise of silence is hardly reassuring by now, honestly, not sure if Roark even is capable of keeping to it in his desperate need for Volkner.

He bites his lower lip the moment hands start tracing very excited heat, a sharp inhale when something twists in the bottom of his stomach at the motion alone, scrambling to compose himself when he wasn't prepared for any of this to happen to begin with— he woke up that morning with nothing but thrilling matches on the ring in mind, there weren't any thoughts crossing it about an aftermath like this so soon! Well, he kind of did hope for it at some point in his more stupid thoughts— but that was reserved for when they actually returned to their own lodging! Not the locker room they were borrowing!

... Ah, maybe Roark has retained some of his usual bastard behavior, what with the way his lips barely graze the tip despite so much begging, his hands doing all the work in driving Volkner insane already... there's a snappy remark almost slipping out the more this goes on, right before Volkner reminds himself that this is not the place nor the time for that— and it dies out in his throat entirely the moment Roark speaks up again. He'll keep him... oh no, he's so screwed. "I—" words fail him entirely, a moment that feels far too long to collect himself. Well, just how is he supposed to be normal with Roark down there looking at him with such pleading eyes, talking like that and— oh, Volkner isn't surviving this one after all.

Another deep inhale, taking that brief moment to wait for Roark to... well, do anything beyond stare at him while holding his heat hostage, really, and when it really sinks in that he's not going to move on his own despite his desperation... well, forgive Volkner for losing his soul so easily in a moment like this. ( he really, really is not used to being in this position, huh. )

"... Alright, if you're asking so nicely..." don't mind him fighting to keep his voice from cracking for a moment there. Finally, his other hand moves, resting on what's left of his horn. One grips hair, as carefully as he can, while the other grasps the remains of his horn for leverage. "Don't stop, okay?" And that's all he says before guiding Roark's head and movements, what inches of heat weren't covered by his mouth taken care of by Roark's hands, and it doesn't take long for Volkner to be fighting himself to keep a steady pace— how is he supposed to, when Roark is servicing him like this, allowing him what basically amounts to free use? ( no wonder roark is always so stupid when he's the one doing this kinda stuff— )

"Y-you're doing good..." Some small encouragement in between his own occasional gasps and inhales, just as Roark deserves. No matter the situation, it would feel wrong to just leave him hanging without a word.

Eventually, it's been long enough that Volkner can feel the build up, that familiar burn and need for release, the rise inside begging him to let himself go and finish, and Volkner looks down at his love, still just as busy as when they started— and he has a thought, as evil as it feels.

The warrior's hazy, slow thoughts are quickly cut off, a pathetic whine leaves him as his husband pulls away just for a moment. At least it's short lived, and Roark eagerly returns the kiss, feeling weak and sedated by the contact alone, the rush of endorphins making him feel dizzy ( they did this all the time, and yet it feels so much more intense than their first kiss... ) When Volkner pulls away, Roark's expression looks more desperate than before, heavy color tinting his cheeks. That... may have made it worse, huh. Maybe he couldn't dispel the pheromones leftover since he wasn't the one who laced them to begin with, but their bond could certainly make his feelings much, much worse.

There is a vague understanding of the situation given Volkner's attempt didn't work as he had hoped it to. "I think... I'm gonna be stuck like this until my body breaks it down," he manages, but his gaze isn't particularly fixated on speaking to him—it's much lower, now, approval seeking and some level of servitude clouding most of his thoughts in the meantime. He just needs him so badly it hurts, and perhaps he needs the affirmations he knows well when he's doing something that pleases the feline.

Honestly, the attention he is giving him right now doesn't seem to be helping either, brow scrunching up in open concern as Roark gets progressively more desperate and needy, some part of him concerned that the touch might be actively hurting him instead, even with something as gentle and careful as a habitual kiss, but— spinning thoughts come to a screeching halt when Roark pulls him closer, holds onto clothes and keeps his face dangerously close to his own heat, Volkner quite easily matching the lovely shades on his cheeks now. There is a brief moment where Volkner effectively short-circuits, mind going blank at the unexpected request, almost denying him, but. He takes some measure of breath and hesitantly glances around. Sure enough, double checking from where he's standing, the door is closed and locked, a shower is readily available, no one has come knocking looking for them, likely won't for a while. It's as safe as it can get.

( he refuses to admit out loud to his heat suddenly being very awake, or else he's never seeing the light again. )

Not that the lovemaking side of their bedroom antics ever stopped, of course. As much as Volkner has grown more comfortable and confident within himself, surrounded by an environment that didn't actively hurt him and options besides withdrawing into himself, he wasn't free from his lows. They were less frequent—much less so after Hisui—but Roark learned they weren't his fault, nor Volkner's. He just needed a reminder to break out of the loop of bad thoughts his mind was stuck repeating.

Still, he may love those moments of work more as they reminded him of their first few times—much like now, even, with Volkner flushed and gaze hazy, distracted with his thoughts. The body doesn't lie, however, and Roark happily eats up the little noises his love makes, each twitch of his heat in his hand, fine-tuned shifts in expression and position. Now he really wants to know if he's done this before—a little bit out of the satisfaction and mostly to sate his curiosity. Eagerly, he watches, his own heat reacting to the way Volkner slowly ramps up his pace and his reactions, knowing full well he's jerking off to the thought of him ( he's never going to come off the high of this, probably ), every moment savored until Volkner finally pushes himself over the edge, such a cute gasp coming out that he hasn't heard in quite awhile, especially when they keep going at it like they weren't going to survive otherwise.

... Or at least that's what Volkner was expecting, until Roark's hand stops at merely holding onto heat, waiting right there. What he was... oh, oh no. Oh no.

"I..." If he was just red in the face before, Volkner is now positively on fire, mind retracing a fantasy that he really did not think he'd end up speaking into existence in any way. He really should've known better, huh? ( it should not be embarrassing after all they've done! damn it, get it together! )

Volkner manages a dry swallow, wandering eyes landing down on the hand currently holding his heat hostage, already feeling it come back to life and silently cursing it for giving him away like that. Well, he's fucked— or rather, he'd like to be. Might as well give up, he'snever beating the allegations here anyways— "You... I was... really making you work to get me to take you in my mouth." Somehow, he manages a smirk, even when his face is not any less red. Bastard to the very end, isn't he? "And your hand right where it is right now wasn't enough persuasion—" he's working real hard to dig his grave right there and then, isn't he? "You have to bring everything out, I can take it— kept my hands out of reach and all." Maybe too bold for his own good.

"Consider it VIP pass treatment~" Roark has certainly bought enough of those to qualify— / more idol, waiter.

The question doesn't register for a few seconds, the option not even fathomed as somewhere in this reality. Granted, even with the risqué images taken, sent, and saved ( and boy, does he often look at them, be it in a feverish state or a yearning one, or both ), it felt excitingly dangerous. Perhaps Roark was being influenced, but he was most certain the danger was primarily in Volkner's situation, especially when he was given little privacy between travel on tours to sleep and take care of himself. With the time slowly counting down to freedom, he can't really blame him for being so daring, going as far as gifting him his voice when they were both awake at wee hours, missing one another. Still, Roark was surprised at his own willingness, and easily his own confidence in being so lewd—wanting to, even, and wanting to make Volkner down bad enough he couldn't function the next time he saw him.

Well, realistically, it went both ways, for Volkner never shied away from tempting him constantly, and knowing how deep the love ran, knew well how much Roark had him on his mind, one way or another, in his arms or in cuffs, or whatever head-empty plan they had thought about most recently.

Knowing how Volkner was under that showman personality that was crafted for the record label and the audience, Roark still had a hard time believing this was something he could bring out of him naturally, from simply caring and loving him unconditionally as a person before a performer.

And yet, Roark sits there with a deep flush, the nice hotel room high up on a skyrise—these tours were getting longer with the destinations reaching out for the largest crowds they could cram into the biggest cities. He was starting to sightsee in places he rarely went to in Japan, which was somewhat concerning while they had to be increasingly careful in public in urban areas like these... but hey, Tokyo was pretty nice. The view from here was surely something, curtains wide open to view the city skyline and the nightlife below. He could press him against the glass and not a soul would know, but the rush of 'what if?' was still there.

...his imagination was not helping him stay normal, and he can't help but cross his legs in an effort to keep some semblance of sanity.

"A whole video...? Isn't that risky, though?" he can't help but fumble out, contradicting his own thoughts. Of course it is, that's why they didn't bother to proclaim their love after Volkner had officially gone independent, and found themselves rutting like dogs the second they had more than a couple of hours together in person. The notion of watching back the delirium they put themselves through from another perspective felt like voyeurism at it's finest, even if it was a contained audience of two. "...Although, I am... pretty curious to see what we look like together.. Is there something to prop up a phone somewhere?" he continues on sheepishly, wondering just what Volkner was picturing, here. There were several ways they could go about this, but he knew how handsy they couldn't help being when seeing one another was so hard when Volkner was too many prefectures away. Holding a phone wasn't ideal, especially when Volkner's hands were tied above him or behind him upon his request.

He can't help but shift his legs some, that reactive imagination of his sabotaging his expression and lighting up his cheeks to match his eyes. "...I've never recorded anything like that but I've seen people do a few ways... what do you want to see?" There's no way he wants to just be looking at himself getting railed the whole time, right? Maybe a profile view? The offer itself is still hanging, and Roark can't help but laugh a little—damn, Volkner really short-circuited his brain with this one, didn't he?

And when the next question comes, Volkner does stop to think about it for a moment— and that's all it takes before turning around to face Roark, grin in full display and stepping closer, arms around his neck and staring directly at him. "Weeell... depends. What do you want to do to me? I hope it's something special if you're going to have it on tape to watch whenever you want~" Their last night together in a hotel room is certainly a memory still replaying itself in his mind, no matter how little he could actually see during it. "I dunno... you could just tie me to the bed and tease me all night, or get me on your dick to prep you until you want to go in? Or maybe you just want to go at it the old fashioned way?" The ideas certainly aren't lacking, that's for sure. "Did you buy some new stuff after our last time? We did like some of it." Perhaps an understatement.

While there is no lack of good ideas, however, Volkner waits for Roark's answer, what's maybe the most important thing to him here. Grin softens up into a gentler smiler, leaning in to steal a peck from Roark's lips, then nuzzling right into his neck. Even just being together like this is more than he could ever ask for, after all.

He commits the few moments of trying to find their pace again to memory, as something to tease him later about, but when it returns and he feels his love's heat pushing against the sensitive nerves inside again, a steady torture returning with his love's words as a commitment to just one more release—Roark feels his body burn and tingle with a near panic to get off again, just like this, just from Volkner alone.

He truly feels no control left in his hips, the soreness becoming it's own flavor of numbness—he can only go on the ever increasing pace through the contact between them and the growing intensity of pleasure that forces his lower back into an arch to feel the entire motion. Somehow, they can keep it together long enough for Roark's expression to shift as his body demands, it's more desperate, cheeks burning hot as he realizes that he really, really, cannot get enough of Volkner at the moment. The pants and gasps have long become vocal, any increase in intensity between their hips causing a bump in volume. That desperation practically hurts now, and it shows in a weeping heat, tightly hard once again and as flushed as he is from clamoring towards release. Roark has never looked as disheveled as he does now, but neither has Volkner, really, and if it weren't for the fact he's had to lock his arms in place to be his balance, he'd have chosen to lock Volkner up in his arms instead. His compromise now is keeping his gaze on him, leaving every raw expression just for him, that hazy need so purely clear in the few glimpses of his eyes.

"Just—a little more—" he whines out, inevitably relentless in his quest to reward his love for letting him do this to him—letting his overstimulated and exhausted body run wild as he slams himself down on his love's heat. Eventually, he can feel that sudden rise in desperation—he's close, he's so, so close, and it feels like Volkner is, too, between the strain in his voice and the harsh throbbing inside of him. He feels the release before he hears it, taking every drop and trying to take his soul with it, riding Volkner through his orgasm, dying from the realization that this is, in fact, what he's doing without a single thought—realizing he's let Roark do this to him alone—he can't really help the strangled moan as his own orgasm comes right up on him in surprise, reeling from all of these new sensations and backed by the sheer amount of emotion Volkner has made him feel. He leaves much more of a mess than his love, on his stomach again, but he can't bring himself to care about it right now, hips slowly pushing out everything his love could give him, more than happy to be filled up by just him alone.

( not that he was going to bring it up, just a little too happy when roark lets himself go and folds him to complain about this— )

... Ah, right, the cuffs, almost forgotten in the aftermath, and Volkner is relieved that Roark remembers before he has to remind him, still finding his voice as it is. He only squirms a tiny bit when Roark pulls back just enough to let his own heat free, a relieved sigh when his wrists are free and his trembling arms can drop down and rest, at least for a little bit. He just waits for Roark to finally settle down and hold him, a content hum feeling his arms around him, not hesitating to nuzzle him, smile pressed against his hair, a hand resting on his arm and a kiss pressed against soft locks of hair.

"You actually lost it if you think I can get up right now. Or push you around, now or ever, really." Still, he chuckles, knowing full well it's going to take a while before either of them actually clean up. "I think I love you more than that." He just... really can't help himself, can he? This is what Roark signed up for, though, he should know to expect this. For now, Volkner will just settle down a little more, and press himself against his love a little further. He needs his warmth.

"Yeah... That was amazing." Most definitely an understatement, but he isn't exactly prone to come up with the most poetic strings of words after, well. Everything they just did. Maybe he'll be able to voice his thoughts a little better when they're both cozy in a nice and hot bath. "You were amazing, you know— I'm glad I asked." He's certainly taking mental notes to rile his love up again next time—

For now, Volkner grins, eyes wandering and searching the bed. Now, where did his love leave the phone?

..oh? He's actually willing? Roark visibly perks up at Volkner's resigned sigh, eyes drawn to the bulge that's decided to wake up—well, he is watching after all, so surely that will motivate his love in ways that he can't entirely control. Of course, Roark has to keep himself still, fighting down the urge to act on his own accord and help as he usually would—but it is, admittedly, both insanely hot and adorable to watch Volkner handle himself like this, furiously blushing as his heat stands proudly despite his love's efforts to dissuade himself. The instinctual hunger must be obvious coming from Roark, having easily found the kinds of touch that have Volkner melt in his hands, but he has to resist, dealing with the erection that was far too happy to make itself known out of sight.

He really is cute like this, he can't help but think, watching from the edge and having a nice view of his love's heat, his expressions only barely able to hide behind his own need. He just has to ignore that his love is right there, paying attention, and everything will be fine!

( but that embarrassed gaze deliberately trying not to look at him is so sweet... roark didn't account for wanting to leap at him over just seeing him touch himself like this... )

Ah, his breath hitches for a moment. His heat is feeling just a little more stiff now, isn't it? This is all Roark's fault.

Well. Something tells him that as much as Roark loves him to the moon and back, after such a request he would still be just enough of a little shit to not help him if he suddenly backed out. Or at least not immediately. They both thrive too damn well on these kind of games spicing up their life. Might as well get himself to commit and finish, even when it feels more awkward and he's struggling to focus. ( it's not an excuse to pleasure himself, no, not at all— )

Whatever scenario is in his head right now, though... letting his mind wander does make it easier to keep up the pace without focusing too much on the vouyerism, fingers tracing heat at a steady enough pace to make the tint on his cheeks seem permanent by now. And a wandering mind inevitably finds all sorts of fantasies to latch onto in a moment like this, especially one that tends to be as hyperactive as Volkner's.

( they haven't really gotten wilder in a while, have they? a shame, with all the stupid, head empty purchases they have made. and after this there is no way in hell he won't make roark work his ass off to wrangle him into giving him pleasure in return, when volkner is already in this kind of position! he keeps being as much of a little shit as he can be, even with his hands restrained and secured behind his back, his lips are sealed and smirking, roark will have to find another way to get him to open up, maybe some new surprise, he can handle the incessant buzzing after all, it's nothing by now— )

Ah, a sudden, sharp inhale, stumbling over his own pace again. Maybe his mind did start wandering a little too far, if the sliver of precum is anything to go by. He's getting really carried away in his own head over things he's not even sure Roark would want to do— the fantasy part of this is working a little too well, isn't it?

Volkner doesn't even notice when he starts picking up the pace, and he certainly isn't thinking about his excited spectator anymore, the hand that started this with careful strokes now getting almost desperate as it traces the length of heat, breath turned into panting, hitching, little whines escaping when he's thinking even less. He doesn't know how long it's been, and he most definitely doesn't care, the build up at the bottom of his stomach really starting to push him over the edge, just a little louder, just a little more desperate until—

The gasp is just as loud as the noise that follows, sheets now just as messy as Volkner himself is, a quiet whimper as he lets go of relieved heat and tries to catch his breath. He's not really sure it compares to his love handling all of him in all the right ways, some part of him just a tiny bit disappointed that Roark didn't stop him to jump in, but well. He did what he was asked to, right? ... Right, he did what he was asked to. Which means Roark caught all of that. Right. ( don't mind him turning even redder, he's fine, he's so fine— )

"Go ahead—You can do it—" he manages, keeping his pace steady, trying to squeeze out the desperation from Volkner with every cascading movement, noises shifting from the back of his throat to sighs at every contact inside of him. "Give me everything—okay?" Volkner doesn't need to wait for him, not like this, but he can't deny that he could get off like this the longer it goes—it's new and it feels good, more so since Volkner is restrained and enjoying this far more than either of them could have guessed.

He comes up with just a little reward for Volkner's patience, for their patience, even—he wants to see him so bad. Reaching over, Roark delicately lifts the blindfold, pushing it up into his fringe to uncover his eyes. At the very least, he should let him indulge in something he can picture forever, right? His love is flushed, gaze hazy from the constant pleasure that his body burdens, lips parted from the exertion. Roark is his just as much as Volkner is Roark's, and it was exactly how they wanted it to be.

A whine gets caught in the back of Volkner's throat, and it takes him far longer than he could've ever expected to find his pace again, let alone the thought to continue even as he's still feeling that desperation deep inside. The resistance handcuffs offer remind him that he's still restrained, just enough to be completely unable to reach him, to get closer and hold onto him and steal his lips just like Roark is stealing his soul right there and then— and it's maybe pushing him a little further into insanity now that he really has to look at him and realize just how close he is.

( he needs him. he needs him so desperately in all of his life— )

"I love you too—" it's an instinctive reply, coming out as natural as breathing by now, almost whispered in his own flustered, barely held together state. "I— I need you—" and pride be damned, he lets that slip out without any thought behind it.

"—You're doing good," he sighs, pleased as he can feel those tingles along his lower back. He has to pick up his own pace, given this is for Volkner more than himself. And so he tries, with the little experience he has in this position, squeezing his love's heat on every movement up, and letting go on the way back down. Perhaps if he can mimic some of what he can do with his mouth, maybe it could feel even better, right..?

All it takes is feeling his love's lips against his own, chasing them with that same amount of stupid desperation as before, always so eager and craving that touch like almost nothing else. Whatever Roark is doing to him now is really getting to him, noises at the back of his throat just a little louder for a moment in their effort to escape, hands clenching into fists when there's nothing for them to hold onto and feeling like his breath has been stolen away entirely. It's unfair how easily Roark can do all of this to him and then some—

Right... "I definitely snuck a few here and there, don't worry—your blush shows up nicely under all this, ehe—" It'd be difficult now to take them now that he needs both hands to support himself ( and admittedly, he just wants to admire volkner, not himself ). "—I think I'll be dreaming about this for awhile, though." That's not even pillow talk, it's a full admission.

Even so, seeing Volkner like this, somehow more desperate than before, so soon after release—it strokes his ego more than anything. The little effort Volkner tries to help him is more significant than Roark could truly appreciate beyond the surprised breaths, a stutter in hitched inhales. "U-Use your core, you can do it—"

Volkner asking him to keep going is always a deeper sign than it seems, and clearly getting his fill without sight does something to him. Roark tries his best to comply, willing himself to keep going and diverting the fatigue to some other muscle, sliding against his love while trying not to completely break him in half when he's twice his size practically. Somehow, it works in his favor, struggling to hold back when contact feels just right—with the way Volkner is fighting for his life again, maybe it's worth trying to get another steady image so save, right? He's only become more needy as time has went on—treating him like this is...

( the talk alone of how much roark is into this, how much he's enjoying himself and how adoring he is, it's hitting him maybe harder than anything else they've concocted together. )

With his words of encouragement on top of it, Volkner keeps trying, puts more effort and what strength he has left into his own movement to meet Roark, almost more motivated to satisfy him again than to find his own release.

Love really does make him more stupid, doesn't it?

He can't forget the ring, of course, promptly taking it off of his heat and putting it aside—by god, if he gets hard again, maybe they're both beelining it straight to hell. He can't even deny his legs are tired, trembling after putting so much into taking his love and vehemently protesting every movement—alas, he doesn't care as much as his body wants to, picking up the lube again and reapplying some to his love. Given the antics that just occurred, it just wasn't fair to leave him with something so lackluster. "It's real cute how much you're into this—you haven't been able to see a thing this whole time," he admits, settling himself against his love's pelvis and taking a hold of his heat, practically reborn after all the time Roark needed to get through that damned ring holding him down. "You deserve a nice reward for all of this."

And the reward is picking up the tease where he left off, pressing heat into his entrance, thankfully no more uncomfortable than the first time, and carefully swallowing him whole. He leans over, taking his face in his hands to press a kiss gently against his lips—the bits of affection Volkner has so helplessly fallen for coming back after his feral high has contained itself. "I'm all yours, now," he laughs a little—admittedly, saying something like that has him feeling so much more lovesick. Words that contain much more than just the physical implications of the present moment—really, Roark would never have feasibly given himself to anyone else at all, wouldn't he? Even with people in his past, there was no letting go of his cards completely, no one truly getting to know every detail under the cracks. Maybe they were meant to be hoplessly obsessed with one another, after all.

If he had any doubts about doing anything else, they're as good as gone the moment he feels the lube being applied, another weak noise slipping out of him and squirming just a little more under the touch, any possible thought forming in response to Roark's words just gone entirely. He just can't put into words what all of this is doing to him— he will have to show Roark in the future, right? Volkner can't be the only one being tormented like this.

"Y-you can— take more pics, you know...?" Just a reminder that may or may not be needed after how badly they got lost in each other, still unaware of how much Roark has done and how many memories he's committed to camera tonight. "C-can't let you forget this—"

Then he feels something he knows very well pressing against his heat, eventually sinking in, and Volkner gasps, breath caught in his throat, trying to collect himself when the thought alone of what's happening just outside of his view is making it throb with need. He returns kisses with newfound desperation, chasing them when they pull away even just a little, so unwilling to let go when he can't find him and keep him in place. He squirms, pathetically trying to meet Roark's hips with what little movement he's allowed to have in this position, almost ready to beg for more all over again. Who would've thought there would be one person capable of make him this desperate for touch and attention?

And when Volkner finally hits his peak, Roark doesn't slow down for him, hand squeezing out every last drop of release from his love after all of his endured torment, a sticky mess that litters such a cute, pale body. "There you go—good job." A passing reminder to himself that he needs to scrub his love carefully between all of the marks he's left, but once Volkner's heat is finally done dribbling seed, Roark takes action, pulling out for just a moment. The poor man is trying to catch his breath, and yet instead of the typical caressing he would opt to do, he instead guides him to turn over onto his knees by flipping his wrists over and following suit with his shoulders.

In this state, it's not like Volkner would resist any which way he's positioned anyway. Roark grabs hold of him by the hips, heat pressed right back into the warmth of his love. "I hope you can hold out—I love you—" he gives as his warning before getting right back to it, hips slamming back and forth to catch up to the high of restrained stimulation. This might be the first time he's actually overstimulated Volkner like this, beyond just touching him shortly after he came—once again, new territory for them.

What ends up driving Roark insane is the time since he last saw him, as much as it leads him to feel not so much better than some feral animal getting a fix. Just, the only difference is that it's quite literally the person he's fawned over the most in his life, and this particular person loves him in return. Said person is also become his personal toy in this moment ( which, admittedly, it was a little hot that volkner is letting him continue to use him like this despite finally getting off himself ). It's no wonder Roark feels so insane, going as far to reach over and hold him tightly, teeth sinking into his shoulder as he hopelessly continues to slam into him. This stupid ring has done so much for them—they're really going to have to have these on hand if they know they won't see each other for awhile, won't they?

The only real indication of time passing is the groans muffled against pale skin, growing more desperate for the need to release that has risen up again to torment him. The thoughts that manifest, somehow, range from yearning to downright obsessive—perhaps Roark himself has basically lost himself in the desperation and pleasure of it all. At some point his thrusts try to go as deep as they can, the slight shift in pace letting him gasp for breath ( he's going to tire himself out just doing this in ways he did not know possible ), unintelligible whines occasionally heard as that desperation grows more and more ( maybe he's starting to feel how volkner felt ).

Well, if any other guests didn't hear Volkner, they'd certainly hear what Roark is doing to him.

When the swears start to spill out, ragged exhales not far from Volkner's ears, he's finally feeling like he's on the cusp of freedom, that burning, tightening feeling making his heat hypersensitive, and it makes him move without thought. If Volkner says anything, he has no idea what's been spoken, squeezing him tighter despite the obvious exertion that's actively making him sweat.

He's close—so damn close—and when it finally feels like it's soon, right there, just right there, Roark doesn't realize just how hard he's biting down on his poor boyfriend, a groan ripping out of him that almost doesn't escape when he finally gets his orgasm. He thrusts with each wave, his stupid, feral brain only thinking about making sure Volkner gets all of him thrown as deeply as possible, teeth finally relinquishing skin as he hopelessly whines out his missing breath until his body is finally done.

( oh no, he'd be lying if he said his stupid, stupid head just found this situation even hotter and maybe even arousing despite having just had his own release just a few moments ago— )

It's feral in the way they just can't help how badly they need each other, just a little more desperate than it usually would be after such distance and the long wait. Somehow, it's endearing to him, to see Roark this desperate for release and to simply stay close to him, even when it comes in the way of a tighter grip and rougher love marks than before. There would be a few words of affirmation and maybe even asking for him to keep going exactly like that if Volkner could find his own voice in all of this.

Roark is finally close to being done, isn't he? It's a vague string of thoughts at the back of his mind when he recognizes the way he's throwing all rational thinking and self-restrain out in favor of holding and biting so tightly he might never be able to let go— and when he finally feels it, Volkner can't help the little noise slipping out of his lips in between heavy exhales. ( he isn't looking forward to more time apart than necessary, but maybe he should try to drive him this insane a little more often— )

He can't help a laugh between heavy breaths, relishing in tight heat that tries everything it can to bring him back in, demanding him to work harder to release. It's certainly a challenge he's willing to take no matter how exhausted he'll be by the end of it. But, hearing Volkner finally say anything at all outside of all of his lovely noises has his attention. Oh... his desperation is... he can feel something leak and squish just a little inside. He's finally broke Volkner for real. He has to reward him for that, doesn't he, for being such a good sport?

"You've earned it—being so good, now," Roark answers him earnestly, easing up on his thrusts so he can grab his love's heat, stroking along while he speaks to him between catching his breath. He can't be bothered to stop at all, for it might drive them both insane in a bad way. "But just know I'm not stopping even if you come soon, okay?" It's a warning and a promise, with how hungry he is for a second release, tightened base making him so painfully aware of each and every muscle his heat slides against. Oversensitive might be an understatement. But, Roark holds up his end of the agreement here, hooking a finger under the ring around Volkner's heat and eventually pulling it off, finally freeing the poor thing from it's personal hell.

Immediately afterwards, Roark has an idea, knowing full well Volkner is much closer and practically dying on the edge of bliss if he's demanding like this. Of course, it's evil, just like everything else he's done tonight. One hand holds him steady by the hip while the other lands by his neck. He knows there's a way to do this safely, and more importantly, without leaving anything suspicious behind—just under the jaw, he presses down and squeezes gently, a sensation of losing air without being actually choked out. His thrusts pick right back up when he knows they're steady, eventually just crushing Volkner into the pillows in order to make sure his legs stay spread and open.

Finally, he feels a finger rub against heat and reach for the damned ring that's been tormenting him all this time, making him squirm a little more until the cursed thing comes off, Volkner releasing a shuddering breath, and his poor heat already leaking a little more now that it's free. He's been restrained for long enough that this little bit of freedom is going to be enough to send him over the edge far sooner than he expected, and yet he's a little too okay with that after how the night has gone.

Lost as he is in the moment, Volkner barely even pays attention to the hand so carefully placed on his neck, just welcoming any sort of touch he can get at this point. He feels the pressure, feels himself almost dizzy, and he almost desperately wishes his hands were free to cling to him and pull him closer, bite and return every single love mark he's left and then some. It keeps going like that for a while, maybe minutes, maybe less, he doesn't care enough to even pretend he can keep some semblance of a hold on the time that's passing, hardly able to focus at all in the rush of the moment.