The hand not in her hair goes up over his head, groping for something to old onto. He's flushed and moaning, looking for all the world like an old statue representing bodily pleasure.

"Aerith," he moans again, rocking against how tight her mouth is, how good her tongue feels. Then she adds her hand and he shudders, doing his best not to fuck her mouth. "I--I'll come if you keep this up." Not a complaint, but he doesn't want her startled or for her presumably first time doing this to be unpleasant. Though, once again he wonders if he's read that wrong, because this feels so good.

She keeps working, and he hisses, arching. "Yes -- Aerith, scions, yes -- "