"'Dasse..." He whines, not sure if it's a noise of complaint or simple pleasure. Nipples are one thing, but Sorrel's ears have always been sensitive. Were he in his right mind, there'd be a joke in that-- that he was born with them sticking out so far, just to make them a target.

He starts to say something else, another plea for friction, to be touched, but Adasse pulls him down again and swallows up any impatience in a way that leaves the desired result: Sorrel rocking against him, and the two of them sliding against one another, as wet as seals. Sorrel breaks for air only when he has too, and only for long enough to gasp

"H-how did you want me?" And this time, it's not a joke, and certainly not innocent. In particular, not in the way that Sorrel leaves no room for immediate answer, bending his head against Adasse's again, as if any time spent apart were too much, too long.