[His knees are flexing, his hips wanting to rock into that very effective mouth more, but he was keeping still, letting her do all the work. The joke was lame -- LAME, RACHEL --, but he laughed, head falling back again as he let out a pathetic laugh.]

I hate the gods. I hate them so much. You have no idea how much I want to throw you up against this door right now. How much I want to just rip off all your clothes and slide right into you. God, I love when you're wet, you're always so wet for me and it's perfect and tight, Jesus, I just want... I want... fuck--

[He could feel that coiling tension in the pit of his stomach again, letting out a moan.]

Still good. Still good at this, god, love you.