He leans infinitesimally against Alecto's fingers in his hair, but then he ducks his head down, fingers stroking along the crease between his spread wide-thighs, feeling the dampness slowly gathering there. His palms press - gentle but firm - against Alecto's skin, holding him open, supporting him as he arches up, and then he leans in with a quickly muffled groan of pleasure, tongue sliding over Alecto, savoring the taste of him here at his core, the sea-salt warmth of his body with every indication of delight at being allowed to take this liberty.