[The flare of petty irritation is quick to dim, snuffed out by loose limbs and soothed nerves and a tilt of mysterious inebriation, lassitude melting his body under the glassy surface of water. It doesn't bother him to share the space; in some light, privacy to his own inner thoughts is an unwanted minefield now. Eyes track Guanshan's progress around the outer edge of the tub, irises paled in relaxation to cool grey, gaze picking out freckles and slight definition of muscle in the flex of movement as he sheds the robe like silky snakeskin, sliding in one long leg at a time.
Singled intensity isn't lost despite the warm, syrupy pleasure of indulgence. If anything the distraction of another body at arm's reach sidelines the darker corners of rumination, but he notices that his own arousal doesn't bank. That fact is so normal Cain thinks little of it. There's nothing overly unusual about the situation, and though the weight of his gaze is lazy, still it lingers even after Guanshan is submerged, memorizing all of the features obfuscated to him by water—lean crux of thighs, sharp hip bones, scarred teethmarks opposite the green flash of a gem, unknown symbols carved further below (what are those?), metallic glitter of piercings. He's not surprised to feel a throb of attraction, pronounced by a foggy and effusive external factor of alcohol and something else, unconscious and fragrant.
Cain takes his hand off his dick and reaches for the bottle of open mead behind him. Then he wades the distance, lifted enough to reveal the fresh-healed, pinkly webbed scarring of a gunshot in his abdomen, and offers the bottle.]
You tried this stuff yet? It's pretty good. They keep giving it out free.
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Singled intensity isn't lost despite the warm, syrupy pleasure of indulgence. If anything the distraction of another body at arm's reach sidelines the darker corners of rumination, but he notices that his own arousal doesn't bank. That fact is so normal Cain thinks little of it. There's nothing overly unusual about the situation, and though the weight of his gaze is lazy, still it lingers even after Guanshan is submerged, memorizing all of the features obfuscated to him by water—lean crux of thighs, sharp hip bones, scarred teethmarks opposite the green flash of a gem, unknown symbols carved further below (what are those?), metallic glitter of piercings. He's not surprised to feel a throb of attraction, pronounced by a foggy and effusive external factor of alcohol and something else, unconscious and fragrant.
Cain takes his hand off his dick and reaches for the bottle of open mead behind him. Then he wades the distance, lifted enough to reveal the fresh-healed, pinkly webbed scarring of a gunshot in his abdomen, and offers the bottle.]
You tried this stuff yet? It's pretty good. They keep giving it out free.