He can't help but grin as his sentence runs away with him and trails off. He reaches down to squeeze his calf lightly, keeping his grip of his cock front and center for him to see. "Don't worry, Love. I didn't get the impression you were wishing me pain." He's ridiculous sometimes. It's why he loves him as much as he does.

Shifting his hold, he takes himself between fingers and thumb, lightly stroking with slow movements up and down. His breathing hitches almost immediately. It is a form of torture after sucking him off the way he did. His hips jut forward of their own volition.

"You have your wish." His voice is soft. There's an intimacy in the closed space that reminds him of some of their forbidden trysts in Kirkwall, anywhere they could manage. That brings a different sort of ache, one he doesn't entertain for long. He wants this to be a happy occasion for both of them, not an evocation of regrets or old fears.