Eli grunts when he's pinned face-first to the wall, his ass out. Lubricant still clings to his ass where he'd prepared himself, and he shouts when Thrawn bites him, his legs shaking. He plants his hands to the wall for support, grateful for Thrawn's grip on his ass. He's flushed all the way down the nape of his neck, too, the tips of his ears equally burning hot.

Idly, he wonders if Thrawn can tell that he's barely hanging on right now.

"Y-yessss..." Eli groans, his role breaking away in that moment in his growing desperation to come. He spreads his legs more and whimpers when the material doesn't let him go as wide as he wants.

Eli's not sure even Figg would be able to be precise while overwhelmed with the urge to orgasm.

He manages a needy look over his shoulder that is absolutely devoid of his pretend role, and he shakily tries to rock his hips back.