The warm embrace of Enver's body around his invading digit is enough to drag a heavy breath out from him, the apex of his desire pressing impatiently against the inside of his own trousers. For as much as it is hemmed in - just as the man in front of him is - soon it will find its freedom to bury in that tight heat, too.

The groan elicits the kind of reaction that's felt rather than heard, the way his finger twists and stretches deeper, crooks as he slides out as though he's refusing to remove it and won't run the risk of it slipping loose.

From beyond the doors the event continues, raucous laughter peppered with demands and even the odd moan as though they aren't the only ones who have truly stepped into the spirit of anonymous fornication. And yet that thought only serves as fuel to the fire, his own mind clear of a lot of desires that he could barely keep contained last time.

This time his full attention is on Enver in an almost purely - but never pure - sexual capacity. Violence isn't thick in his blood now because it was singing earlier, reigning supreme as he efficiently and ruthlessly shuffled a few more of their intended targets off the mortal coil.

"You sound even better this time," he murmurs, whatever grace period he had been giving the smaller man to adjust to the one finger is done and dusted. The second is pressed in with just as much fervour and lust for the things to come.