He's raw and overstimulated and Chris doesn't stop -bless him, he doesn't stop - prolonging the orgasm with the force of his thrusts and Hawke can feel every push and tug and brush of air against his skin. He feels aflame and shudders again hard when Chris reaches his own release, biceps tensing as he instinctively tries to wrap his arms around Chris in turn as he leans down and is unable.

His helpless moan at that turns to a throaty groan and harsh suck of breath, Chris's teeth leaving their mark on him and causing him to buck insatiably, potentially dislodging Chris' softening length still within him. His mind is a haze of pain and pleasure, need and satisfaction, but teetering at the edge of something dark. It's such a big feeling all at once in his unraveled state that he can't articulate anything at all. Just a wordless needy sound, a rattle of restraints, and what little movement he can make spent on curling his head in against Chris' cheek.