[That all it takes; Hurricane groans like he's dying, surround by wet heat and gentle suction after so long of nothing but the too-soft brush of fabric over the very tip of his cock]

[He presses in like he's desperate for it, slow pressure to ease himself in deep, hands holding tight to Rye's hair, a soft, wavering sound leaving him as his eyes flutter closed]

[After that, he's lost; the thrusts are full and deep, all the way to Rye's throat. He's still trying to keep from going too fast - trying to give him time to adjust - but by the trembles running all through him, it's not a battle he'll continue to win for very long]