Had he the wherewithal to think outside of the sparks of pleasure with every thrust, he might laugh at how this started. The other man had been so irritated to see him, and it's not that he doesn't understand why. But he feels Enver's deep and complete surrender to the invasion, the way his body welcomes every slam of his hips. The sight of nails scratching down stone tell a story all of their own.

He allows himself to fall into the moment bodily, no such urge otherwise to distract him or competing with his arousal and desire to climax. But he isn't so lost that he's forgotten Enver's desire, his palm now dry of oil but distantly he's assuming the other man's cock is still slick.

He doesn't wait around to guess for long. His left hand releases Enver's hip, fingers snaking around the bare strip of his waist before wrapping around the evidence of his desire. There's no need for him to stroke, the force of his hips slamming against Enver's behind and forcing his hips forward into his grip.

It seems as though he's getting closer too, and whether that's because he can feel the other man's desire against his palm now remains to be seen. His hips continue their incessant back and forth, breath still hot in Enver's hair as he wrestles them both towards their conclusion.