He can feel his own excitement like a slow winding up tension, and it happens without reluctance, without qualification. Without the ability to slip his awareness through the seams of his partner's skull and take measuring assessment of his own performance, their unspoken desires and needs, and anticipate them, or divert them. But he can hear Daniel's breathing, feel his hands, feel him shift to sit up so he can look.

And that brings about a flush of warmth, as does the tasting touch of his tongue at the tip of him, at the desire to encourage him deeper, just that little bit, and tip his head so Daniel can watch. Little fangs present, still, but kept out of the way enough that if there is the slight sense of them scraping sensitive flesh, it should mainly encourage stillness more than anything else.

Service, possession, both things can be true and complicated in the simple act of taking Daniel into his mouth in contemplative strokes of movement. His hand, flattening against his abdomen.