There's a deep tension, fingers digging into Benedict's hair, pulling more than a little, but Colin breathes. Slow. Careful. And he never stops watching, taking in Benedict's features, the color of his hair, the attentiveness he shows. Gradually, the tension eases, and his knees draw up to bracket Benedict's head. It feels good. It feels better than good. The hands in Benedict's hair go from pulling to gently scratching his scalp, encouraging him as much as he can. For whatever reason, he can't make noises even now, in private and with no risk of any jailers walking in on them. The only sound is his breath growing quicker and heavier.

Until, at least, his head drops back, and a pitched sigh escapes him. It finally feels like this is real, and he's having sex like a normal person.