It's a good thing that Merrick doesn't have to hold himself up, because his neck is sensitive and the kisses and bites turn him to jelly. His hand coils fingers around one of Metaari's horns--certainly not strong enough to hold his head in place, but enough to say yes, right there, keep doing that.

He's just as hard, just as dizzy with fevered desire, but he forces himself to gasp out words. "Do you--" A gasp, a pant of breath. "We need--something."