[The single word works as well as if it had been a command on the battlefield, pausing Adar in mid-motion as he looks to Sauron again, only to watch his master move behind him. He waits, patiently, what is hardly even seconds seems to draw on forever until he is reunited with his warmth.
At first, he stands there properly, basking in the warmth and watching through his downward tilted gaze his master's much finer hands as they slowly work on the lacing he had been tugging at roughly and rudimentarily, as though he was still a soldier and was undressing after a battle. But the wet heat of Sauron's mouth on long untended flesh makes his posture melt, his body giving into the desire to lean back against him as his heart jumped in his chest. His hand twitched as if he would have reached up and back if he was more sure that he could. Instead, rough nails bite into his own palm, nearly hard enough to draw blood.]
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At first, he stands there properly, basking in the warmth and watching through his downward tilted gaze his master's much finer hands as they slowly work on the lacing he had been tugging at roughly and rudimentarily, as though he was still a soldier and was undressing after a battle. But the wet heat of Sauron's mouth on long untended flesh makes his posture melt, his body giving into the desire to lean back against him as his heart jumped in his chest. His hand twitched as if he would have reached up and back if he was more sure that he could. Instead, rough nails bite into his own palm, nearly hard enough to draw blood.]