"I said an hour-" Voice low and scraped raw, five kinds of ragged and strained but he's nowhere near done. Much as he wants exactly what Felix is saying, much as he needs to bury himself deep and let go- he meant what he said. He's not giving up that last inch till Felix and Sam are both begging with everything they've got.

All golden orange means Felix is deep in the wetwork and that's as much incentive as any to shudder through that drag and clasp as he shifts the path of his hands. From thighs to hips to chest he squeezes one of Sam's nipples between his fingers, rolling the puffed, stiff point as he shifts his angle of thrust just enough to grind up against Sam's prostate.

Maybe he'll get them to come one more time before the hours up. Maybe two. "And I meant an hour-"