[Hurricane moans, long and low, the first time Rye swallows around him; gasps, and shudders, and presses up into that glorious wet heat]

O-oh my god, dude. Your mouth is so good. Your throat feels - feels amazing. G-god, I'm gonna keep waking up hard from dreaming about this.

[He's been watching the level of his voice for most of this, too embarrassed by the presence of the audience; but now, for the first time, he's starting to creep a little louder, too lost in pleasure to mind his own volume]

[One of his hands has crept back to his nipples, rubbing at the hard nub restlessly; the other settles shakily in Rye's hair, holding on as though he needs it to ground himself]

G-god - right there, go harder, your fingers are so thick. I want - want you in me, want you to - to plow me into the bed, aah, jesus -

[It's probably not hard to recognize Hurricane's tells by now; his hips are working feverishly, pressing him up into the wet heat of Rye's mouth and down against those thrusting fingers. His thighs are drawn up tight and trembling, toes curling against the covers of the bed]