[Obediently he leans back, eyelids flickering at the caustic afterimage of that wild energy, though he doesn't flinch. Hasn't, even since the first time Cy demonstrated his power. Marvel and curiosity exists in him as a response to what Cy is capable of doing—but not fear.

Without underwear in the way, he takes in the sight up close, all those smooth lines of flesh to the attractive arch of a hard cock close to his face. It takes Cy's hand in his hair to tempt his chin upward.]

You can if you want. But I'm not really... [Hm, how does he say this.] I don't know how to make it look the way you did. That effortless performance.

[Meanwhile, his right hand closes itself over that stiffened length of arousal, just to feet its heat, the silky texture of flesh beneath the rub of a palm.]