His hand moves compliently to his thigh.  Wayland's breaths speed.  The air means nothing to him, but the emotions do.  He groans and tenses, golden runes shimmering on his silver body.  Then, with a cry, something salty spurts from his member.  He clenches his fists at his sides, squeezing his crystaline eyes shut, and kicking out his legs to either side with the intensity of his emotions.