Arie isn't honestly physically capable of holding back any sounds at the moment. He is barely capable of thinking straight, thinking anything, just simply existing and living through the pleasure that Damian is igniting inside him again and again.

"F-fuuuuck," Arie groans, voice hoarse and breaking as he is jolted up along the sheets with each driving thrust, only to be dragged back in once again. There are no words after that, just a cry of pleasure each time Damian lands on that spot, sparking white hot fire in Arie's core. One of his hands flies up to press against the headboard, to push himself down, fingers white-knuckled as they grip the sheets, his other hand gripping Damian's nape, holding on for dear life.