He tries to breathe as best he can, slowing his movements as she comes down from her climax. He sighs as though he's the one who just came.

As she pulls him back, he'll see his eyes lidded and hazy with lust staring up at her, his brows slightly raised and knitted together, his mouth agape, his face and hand completely a mess with her liquids, and his cock in his lap, still untouched, having produced strings of precome that still drip down onto his thighs.

He doesn't speak, already deep enough in subspace that words aren't coming so easily, that he doesn't want to have to bother with talking. It's so much work. He'd rather be her plaything.