Summer almost cries when Loki puts the gag back in, but his sudden penetration rips a cry from her mouth, muffled into the fabric. It only takes a few strokes before his rhythm drags her along, the already sensitive flesh instantly responding to the friction. She wants his mouth, but not with the gag in the way; she wants his hands to roam her body but can’t say it. All she can do is writhe with his strokes, hooking her free leg behind his back, and and helplessly slide into the throbbing moan that has always characterised her rising pleasure at this point.