[Hurricane whimpers a little, at Rye's words; it's plain to see how much they get to him, in the way his lips part and his cheeks flush deeper. It's plain to feel how much they get to him, by the way his cock gives a hopeful little twitch, there beneath the fabric]

O-oh my god. Are you trying to kill me?

[Evidently yes, because then Rye's pulling away, and Hurricane groans softly, the sound pure frustration. He shudders, and shifts, and can't help but lean in as though needing more]

[Then Rye's climbing out of the car, and there's nothing but the ache of want, and the walk through the game tower. Hurricane glances down at the bulge in the dress - flushes darker, and reaches up underneath to adjust his underwear. It's fairly tight, thankfully - has to be, to fit under his usual bodysuits without showing - and with a little adjustment, he manages to get his erection from obscene to something only just noticeable, if someone happens to be looking for it]

[Possibly he palms himself a couple of times through the fabric of the boxer-briefs, because he's already very wound up, but it's only a few, and then he's biting down on his lip and climbing out after Rye, flush all the way to his ears]