Sam lets out a shaky breath as Cyril complies to his words, both relieved and frustrated that he does so. His body desperately wants to reach the end, but he doesn't know his limits in this field. And he so wants to do the rest of the things Cyril spoke about.

His body shudders when Cyril finally pulls back, and a groan leaves his lips, already missing the wet heat around his erection. "Maker preserve me..." he gasps as he lets go of Cyril's hair to lean back against the tree.

At the question, Sam nods dumbly. It takes him a moment through the continued stroking to realize that even with his better eyesight, Cyril might not have seen his response. "Y-yeah. You've a truly talented tongue." He chuckles at that, only to moan a moment later at a particular long stroke.

"If you keep stroking me like that I might not be ready for more." Reaching down Sam lightly grips Cyril's wrist and forces him to stop. "Now what?"