Emcee can feel the threads of the spell coming loose, but it doesn't diminish his arousal. In fact it intensifies. For every song must reach a climax.

With a trembling gasp, his hips buck against Sinric's hand, clenching around the phallus. He cups both of his breasts in his hands, nipples chafing on his palms with each move.

His cries become raw, rising in pitch, rising in ecstasy--