"Oh god," the sound is almost punched out of him, desperate, when Azwel cups him and the familiarity has him raising his hips into the touch just the slightest bit even before Azwel's fingers land and then babbling something incoherent but definitely positive when they do,

"Please," it's not a conscious thought or a response to Azwel saying he likes it when his lovers are eager, it's just the need that's settled somewhere in his chest, dragged out when Azwel pushes that finger in. He spreads his legs more for it, shameless now that they're actually doing this, and digs his nails into Azwel's back in pleasure, arching his own. He doesn't really have the leverage like this to properly roll his hips, but it's clear that his body is trying anyway, a plea for more that doesn't need words.