They groans a little pathetically, shaking their head side to side, their hair whipping across their face. Their forehead beads with sweat. It seems impossible for them to look away, teeth clenching hard on the now thoroughly damp bundle of cloth they once wore as panties.

Fingers twitch. They long to touch the other man back, but the order he had given feels like a pair of chains around their wrists. Monty's always done well with instruction; they have always responded well to power.

That familiar curl of heat is starting to broaden at the very core of their body. They make a worried, warning sound, hips squirming as if not sure if they wanted to get away or get closer.