He couldn't have anticipated the strength in those slim arms. What should have been an exploring touch flips him onto his face far too easily, and a soft yelp of surprise escapes him. Instinctively, his knees try to press together, but they meet resistance in the form of the body between them.

"You're quite the performer yourself," he breathed, more to buy himself a moment to think than just to quip. What to say? What did he most enjoy...?

Guests who let him do as he pleased, teasing and tormenting until they were begging him with teary eyes. Guests who did the same to him, those rare few who both enjoyed playing with a partner more than racing towards a finish line and simply took what they wanted. The former seemed unlikely given the current flow of events, but the latter...his face burned, just thinking of having to ask for it.

Flushing, Saralegui turned his face against the sheets like he could potentially hide in them. "...Drag it out," he said after a painfully long moment. "It's no fun if you rush to the end. And--" Fuck. How to say it without wanting to die? He bit at his lip, turning his head a bit more despite the uncomfortable way it stretched his neck. "...Don't be too nice."