Dorian began to praise Bramen in Tevene. He was so clouded with pleasure it was easier for him to slip back into his native tongue than common. His lover was perfect, so perfect, fucking him exactly as he needed.

Shifting his weight he reached underneath himself, grabbed Bramen's wrist that was pressed against his chest and pushed it downward to his cock. He needed more and was shameless in asking for it.

"Placeo, amatus," he moaned deeply, wrapping Bramen's fingers around his aching length.

The language might not be clear but the actions were. He trusted Bramen to understand.