Adalwolfe's fingers slide out easily, Anders more than ready for him, and yet still he's so tight when Wolfe presses in that the Champion lets out a groan that rumbles his chest and a shudder goes up his spine. Anders doesn't even stop to adjust, instead immediately beginning to ride Wolfe's cock with a slow and steady rhythm, a slow build, and Wolfe can already tell it's going to be sweet torture until his lover finally grants his release.

Torture punctuated by things like this, by nails digging into his flesh and eliciting a cry just on the heels of that moan, wondering vaguely with what little of his mind isn't lighting up with sadistic pleasure if Anders had drawn blood. He almost wants him to have, but can't even articulate that it would be fine by him, not now. Anders already has his brain trained on action instead of thought.

With an exhale that's several degrees cooler than the room puffed against Anders' chest, Adalwolfe channels his mana into his fingers, tracing them to Anders' sides, sliding slowly between ribs and waist and back again. Slowly, just a background hum at first, Wolfe draws on lightning and just allows it to make itself known, for now. Like static, or that feeling of electricity before a storm. It's subtle and gentle but the edge of it heightens everything else, making both of their skin hum.