Again, that machinery whirls madly behind him, so fast it's nearly invisible, the small lights on it describing painfully bright circles. In front of him, Azwel makes a series of small, short sounds, desperately swallowing as much of that mouthful as he can. He pulls away, gasping for breath, small rivulets of white running from his lips and into his beard.

He rubs at his face with his hand and then crawls forward, his breaths sobbing though no tears fall. As soon as he reaches Vash's face again, he takes it in his hands and kisses him fiercely, small desperate sounds in his throat as he sinks down on top of him. His hips move, dragging his still-hard cock against the heat and all the slick wetness and it isn't long at all before he shudders. It pulses, releasing, and he falls forward, gasping and shaking. He'd beaten them. A small victory and possibly a Pyrrhic one, but a victory nonetheless.

The restraints click open again.