Felih is finding it very hard to think. His mate's pace is relentless and brutal, everything that makes him arch and cry out in shameless ecstasy, mewling wantonly as he keeps his legs wrapped tight around his lover. Hades fills him again and again, giving him round after round, and he's lost track of the number of times his lover brought him to orgasm. Felih is a mess of his own seed and Hades' alike, dark skin spattered in his own thick, white cum, thighs doubtless stained with Hades'.

When Hades finally seems to tire, Felih is panting hard, chest heaving in his attempts for oxygen. He shudders and whines softly when his mate inevitably pulls out and lets himself fall back to bed, already missing the fullness, but he's quick to cuddle up close and try to kiss his exhausted lover.

"Feeling better...?" he says, voice soft and slightly hoarse from all his mewling. He’s purring away, though, as he nuzzles at Hades' shoulder, tongue lapping over several of the marks he left on his mate.