Had they? Who knows. Azwel has no idea if this is his own decision or not, but he's finally, finally settling into this after so many times in this machine. Those sounds--this is how it's supposed to be. He can't think of much, but he knows that, at least. He lavishes Vash's length with his slowly stroking tongue before his head starts to bob, falling into a rhythm. His hands rest on the other's hips, warm and heavy, until one slips down over the curve of his balls, curling around them to gently massage.

He hums softly against the skin in his mouth, only idly wondering why the buzzing in his head isn't objecting, isn't making him do something else. Or is this their plan? Such thoughts would usually tear into his mind but now they sit calmly, curled up, eyeing him. And he's all right with that for now.