A soft 'oof' escapes him as Tim encourages him to turn, and like hell he's going to fight that. In fact, that bit of aggressiveness only serves to turn him on more. It's not like he doesn't know what's about to happen— what needs to happen— but he stiffens at the pressure anyway.

And then the fingers press in hard and he grunts, tapering off into a moan as he claws at the wall. Ah, so it is a wall. His shoulders flex as he tries to relax around the rough digits, gasping out hotly when a gentle touch (a harsh contrast) brushes against his ear.

"O-Oh..." Is all he manages to utter as he does his damned best to spread himself. Present what Tim wants, whatever he wants, submitting to the asserted dominance that the man has easily established in his frenzy. This stuff really packs a punch, and were it anyone else, he may have some reservations. It's not like him to just simply give himself up so readily and so wantonly without having a greater awareness.

But Tim is reliable. They work well together, he'd like to think. If he had the mind to think right now. Thinking is for later.