[ The first two fingers are enough to make Keita cry out, although he muffles it by pressing his mouth into the curve of Wriothesley's shoulder. He can feel the sting of it, just a little, his body giving way around the intensity of the intrusion, and it only heightens his desire—or perhaps that's another effect of this birthday "gift" foisted upon him by the resort, that he's able to take more with less work. It doesn't take long before the burn of being stretched gives way to the pleasure of being filled like this, and Keita's hips begin to work back against Wriothesley's hand, eager but not yet demanding.

The addition of a third finger is welcome, and Keita's body accepts it easily, although the increased fullness and pressure inside him does make Keita's hips move even more urgently. He's panting softly with desire, clinging to Wriothesley's shoulders, his fingernails digging lightly into skin as he tries to use the other man's broad shoulders as a way to keep himself steady. ]

Oh, don't tease. [ It's not a real admonishment, nor is Keita really embarrassed. His head is all white noise, and it makes it much easier for him to admit to what he might ordinarily not acknowledge. ] It's just, ah, not proper where I'm from to—ooh, to admit that I like to be f-fucked—

[ And it's also quite illegal, although Keita doesn't bother to say that part. Kind of not the vibes he's going for right now. ]

You will fuck me, won't you? Or are you, mmgh, just going to torment me like this until I lose my mind?