His typical protests seemingly come to an end when those bountiful, beautiful breasts of the Queen smother his face; perhaps the sudden difficulty of breathing had something to do with that? Or perhaps he was more man than some think, and like any man, when a wonderful pair of knockers is right there like that, they stop thinking about everything else in the world.<br/><br/>In fact,  while she may have sensed some earlier, conflicted arousal from him, she would now feel it quite thoroughly, and unadulterated by confusion.  As fickle as the Fae could be, it seemed boobs were a weakness and fondness for him, like most males.<br/><br/>His arms are easily bound, as he offers her no resistance; he knows better. Or thinks he does, at any rate. If he just cooperates, he'll get more tits, or, wait.,.. escape. Yeah, that's right! Escape. Possibly into the arms of an equally well endowed Dryad. But first a shower, the filth of this place is horrifying. Not that he can think about that too clearly right now, however; it was more like a needling after-thought.<br/><br/>Every pierce of his skin, however, seemed to bring alternating bouts of confusion and clarity. It distracted him from her assets, but also mixed oddly with his current state of extreme arousal. Not that those wounds tended to linger for long; it must be a sadist's dream, to see that something can quickly heal. Yet, it's certainly not the first time The Queen would have seen such a thing, for sure; still, it bared note taking. Thin and ethereal as he may seem, he might have much more resilience than appearances would lead one to believe.<br/><br/>But, then again, wasn't that, precisely, the very thing about Fae? Never trust their appearances.<br/><br/>As he feels his manroot plunged into her cold, wet interior, he shuddered at the oddity; and yet, he still ends up gasping, and groaning. However, her rough pushing seems to quiet him down; at least, for now. For sure, she'd find a way to make him scream one way or another soon enough...