He fucks himself on Laertes with an energy he hadn't quite expected himself to have, not after the exertion of the clay-making; but the burn of pushing his body up, until he's on the verge of letting Laertes slip out of him, and then swallowing him back again into his own heat and tightness is wildly satisfying. Laertes is his, his charge and his servant, his beautiful, brave, clever, unmatchable husband, and Sagramore would give him the world -- it's nothing to give him this. He uses Laertes' cock as if Laertes had been made for this purpose alone.