[That growl does something to Orym on some instinctual primal level that he had not been previously aware that he had. It stirs the heat that is already threatening to consume him and fans it all the hotter, until things like coherent thought are so far beyond him.

His voice breaks in a sob of pleasure as Dorian finds the angle he's looking for. Orym half claws at his shoulders, nails digging into skin for purchase, to hold on for dear life. Another shiver at the words, wonderfully filthy and exactly what he wants to hear.]

I was... I wa smade for you, for your cock. Gods, you're perfect... so big,, I'm so full of you. I can't... I'm so close... [The words are tumbling out of him now, punctuated with whimpered groans, pleasured gasps as they make an absolute mess of the bathing chamber.]