Just like last time, Merrick has no choice but to hang on and just ride it, to release his tight control on his own body and just take, just feel. He can't think anymore, can't speak, can barely move. He grips Metaari, both arms around his neck now, squeezing him tight.

The whimpers that leave his lips are the qunari's alone to hear. The vulnerability he's showing is such that no one else can see, that will stay in this wine cellar between the two of them forever.

There's a rhythm to his gasps and cries, a steady "ah--ah--ah--" as he's pounded into.