Whatever rumors like to fly regarding the rising star Military Advisor's path to power, especially in circles such as this, the situation that Enver is currently in is fairly new. Whatever dalliances he has been part of over the years have generally been in more intimately secluded places. The bedroom of an heiress or heir. Fairly innocuous in scope, secret, the sort of thing that did not lead to a lot of rumors flying, if not for his sake then for theirs. A stark contrast to the environment he grew up in, to be sure, and for a long time it was why he preferred it, if it was to be the sort of thing he engaged in at all.

Fitting that this be so different in so many ways. To come from a fairly equal meeting of the minds, where he found himself being pursued rather ardently, when before it was very much an advantage that he himself was chasing.

It is probably why for all his caution, for all his insistence at propriety versus overindulgence, this does not invite in his mind thoughts of anything threatening or beneath his notice. Not that in the moment there is much room for anything in the abstract as far as thinking goes.

There is only this bottomless well of desire meeting an equally brilliant flame and expediently climbing to that apex of pleasure with desperation and fervor. His free hand claws at the stone beneath his touch, the fingers of the other ready to close and tighten against the pain the hold on his hip could far too easily spring, but stroking encouragingly, presently against the backs of rough, tense knuckles. Each full slam inward threatening to rock his head back, pushing another choked moan from his lips.

He bites his lip. He'll be close soon.