The need to feel something this physical is born of a need years in the making. His unholy blood yearns for either slaughter or furthering the family line. He can do neither with Gortash, and though the other man won't understand it, the Dark Urge is showing the kind of masterful control over himself that is bordering on the impossible. If Gortash thinks his grip on the reins of his self-control is decent, it wouldn't be completely remiss to get the impression the Dark Urge is showing off.

He allows the human to climb over him, straddling his lap until they're almost chest to chest. The paleness of his gaze is sharp as an icicle as he watches on, face otherwise an impassive wall showing nothing else.

At this point, he's started to entertain himself by gripping hard at his control, even as he feels fingers hold his cock upright. Even the moment he feels the tight heat of the human's body start to sink onto him. He gives nothing at all, whatever thrill of pleasure that runs through him from his balls choked until it dies.

"More," he finally says, demands, voice perfectly level despite their newfound shared connectedness.