[Gathering up Absinthe’s wrists in one hand, a trivial task if he isn’t squirming back. Thank goodness for a slightly larger frame.]

Your pretty mouth can speak, can it not? Words available to you. You could try that.

[With a knee he spreads Absinthe’s legs wider apart as he slicks his other free hand with lube. He trails his hand with a purposeful feather light touch up his inner thigh, across his balls and further down.]

Or could it be? Don’t tell me punishment is a thing that turns you on?