He moaned, desperate and breathless and needing more. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think, and quite honestly he couldn't care less. For the night at least, Birkin belonged to the other scientist. And he loved it. But, damn, he wished his arms weren't shackled to the bed any more so he could wrap his arms around the scientist and make this seem a bit like a dirty, drunken hook-up in his head.

Birkin stared up at his... What was Stein to him now anyway? A friend with benefits? Fuck buddy? ...Lover? He'd figure it out some other time when he wasn't being ravaged like this. Regardless of what his new title was, Birkin stared up at him behind half-lidded eyes, mouth dry from trying (and failing) to catch his breath.

He tossed his head back with a lusty moan after a particularly fierce rub of his prostate, his own hips moving to meet Stein's thrusts. "Oh, God, Franken this is..." Birkin ran out of words, opting instead to lift his head off the bed and roughly push his lips against Stein's.