[He lets go when he lets go; holding out just so both he and Ash could feel that strain, that kind of release that only comes after denial, is an idea, but not one he can be bothered with right now: honestly, the lack of actual desire to torment the kid--even the good kind--is probably a part of it, more than the idea not crossing his mind. Because it does, even when not many other thoughts make the cut. But Ash's voice and breath over the pour of the shower rain are short of a moan and he wants to hear it, which maybe he should have thought of before his own voice rings out in a long, satisfied, decidedly too-loud moan amplified in their high dollar bathroom.
As he pulls his softening need from Ash's hole, a hand moves over his backside, at first seemingly to help settle him back into his balance, kneading before pushing one middle finger in place as if to serve as a stopper, keeping anything from flowing out.]
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As he pulls his softening need from Ash's hole, a hand moves over his backside, at first seemingly to help settle him back into his balance, kneading before pushing one middle finger in place as if to serve as a stopper, keeping anything from flowing out.]