"Drusilla!" he says with delight as she looks up at him, blinking her ineffably deep and lustrous eyes.
He drowns in her gaze so long that she has to knee him to remind him to continue. "Oh yes," he says, "oh yes," and fumbles with his trouser buttons. Her skirts are still a struggle---there's so much of them and he doesn't always understand her underwear.
He pulls himself out and somehow finds the spot where he needs to go, finding the angle a good deal more quickly this time. Drusilla growls and thrusts her pelvis up so hard that he almost faints. He bites his lip, to steady himself, and gets a better grip on her and the bed, before pushing back. Then it's up-down up-down up-down and the pleasure's so great that he thinks he'll lose the use of his limbs.
One of her breasts pops out of her corset and he reaches down to suck, doing his best not to lose his arse's rhythm. She gives an appreciative wiggle that wriggles her cunt and he spends.
He feels happy and giddy and starts mumbling sweet nothings into her neck while she grinds herself to completion. "Just give us a minute," he says, smiling, once she's done, "and we'll do it again." He thinks this time he'll take off her dress.
Then Angelus says, from the armchair next to the bed, "That's not how you do it, my boy," and begins to unbuckle his belt.