And that pretty much killed Vlad's ability to have a conversation.

Shuddering with pleasure, he arched up against Thomas' hand and moaned softly, suddenly unable to think about anything but that touch, which was really sending a ridiculous number of sparks flying under his skin. And doing the same to him, of course. Vlad managed to fumble the button on Thomas' jeans open, and followed suit, matching his rhythm easily.

It was easy to ignore the camera crews almost entirely (almost being the key word; Vlad did sometimes enjoy an audience,) - oh, especially when Thomas did that. But birds were singing, and the sky was getting lighter all the time. The first few times he opened his mouth, all that came out was a strangled noise. Finally he managed "we should," before the words degenerated back into unintelligible gargles of pleasure.