Malcolm worked his hand with a fierce, near-brutal friction, his fingers slick with the moisture weeping from his own skin, but the final, explosive peak remained completely locked away. No matter how long and hard he tried to help himself under the blinding light of the chandelier, his S-tier system refused to release. The internal, hollow ache inside his hidden entrance was growing into a monstrous, unbearable weight, and the single finger he had pushed inside his own flesh was doing absolutely nothing to relieve the burning void. It was just a shallow, teasing friction that made the deeper muscles of his butt hole twitch and throb with a desperate, unfulfilled hunger.
"Damn it... fuck... why won't it...!" Malcolm sobbed out against the headboard, his chest heaving as a thick wave of pure, agonizing frustration clawed at his throat. He had never felt so completely powerless over his own anatomy.
