"Okay--fuck, okay," he pants when Orym gives him the go-ahead. Will drinks in the sight of him, he's beautiful there on his bed, looking up at him like that. It takes him a few more seconds to actually move, until Orym foists the oil at him.

He withdraws his fingers slowly and tries to figure out how to do this. Every time it's a negotiation of position between what they want, need, and are capable of.

"How do you want it?" he whispers as he slicks himself, voice tight with restrained arousal. His cock is aching and he's trying not to indulge in stroking himself too much. Maybe he's been waiting for this, but figuring out this part is just as important as the rest. "I mean. How should we--"

He lets the question cut off, knowing Orym will catch what it is he's asking.