The pace was slow, steady. The beat of a big kettle drum, counting out the strokes. Rhys's tongue moved hungrily in the younger man's mouth, as though he was trying to eat Cy's essence out through his lips, but his hips were consistent, a rhythm of pleasure that thrust up into the other professor over and over. And it was wonderful, having this squirming, needy creature on his lap, but it wasn't quite right.

A big hand slid to the small of Cy's back, holding him firmly, supporting his weight, so Rhys could shift his body and then rise up to his knees. He spilled the younger man back across the bed so he could loom over him, cover Cy's body with his own, thrust into him more fully. It necessitated breaking the kiss, and the Potions professor murmured to the younger man as he pounded into him, "Beautiful, oh, my lovely boy, yes ... "