"Lordosis behaviour," says the Professor, musingly. "Did you know that, Sebastian?"
Moran is sprawled beneath him on the counterpane, naked, wrists bound behind his back, Moriarty's hand on his neck, pressing his face into the soft material, the other buried knuckle deep in his marksman's anus.
"No, Sir, I didn't, and I - ah - don't know what that is, exactly."
"It's the arching of the spine observed in female mammals when in heat, displaying the genitals, inviting the male to mount them and mate. Are you in heat, Sebastian? Do you want to be mated?" Moriarty thrusts his fingers hard into the prone man, forcing him to tilt his backside up even more.
"No, God, Sir, oh please just touch me, please Sir."
The Professor twists his fingers deliberately, viciously, eliciting a grunt of pain from Moran. "Touch you? I think not, Sebastian. Your display, your invitation to be mated would suggest that any stimulation of the vestigial organ between your legs is unnecessary, no? Therefore I shall simply perform my male function of mating you like the bitch you have shown yourself to be, and fill you with my seed."
The Professor withdraws his fingers abruptly from Moran's dilated hole, wiping them on his side, and enters him roughly with one hard thrust of his manhood. He leans low over Moran's back, far enough to be able to whisper against his ear.
"There will be no touching, chick. I shall rut into you until I am quite spent, and your cunt is awash with my issue. And then you shall hold it in until I allow you to release it, to ensure that our mating is successful. Do I make myself clear, tigress?"
And the Professor cannot quite suppress his growl of dominance and arousal as his mate can only keen and buck beneath him.