It is a little pathetic, Caleb acknowledges, how happy he is just to be invited closer. He makes his body move where Yussa wants him, tucked up beside him. He leans back against the cushions and stretches his legs out with a sigh--if not of relief, then at least something like it. But that sigh is followed quickly by a gasp, then a startled, unrestrained moan.

The back of his head sinks into the cushion behind him, his hands clutch at the edge of the couch, and his hips twitch up. Yussa's dainty, elegant hand is warm on his cock. His touch may be light, but it is the only direct touch he has had tonight, and he is so fucking hard. Just looking down into his lap to see him trace the shape of his erection is dizzying. His cock throbs and leaks heavy drops of precome that soak deeper into the wet fabric of his smalls at even this much attention, a tempting taste of possible release at last to soothe that deep ache. Yussa's words have much the same effect.

"If that is still what you want, then ja, I...I would really like that," Caleb stammers, soft and breathy. Even he isn't entirely aware of just how desperate he looks, hazy blue eyes trained on Yussa, brow knit up, and his red, well-used mouth parted around every audible breath. "Just say what you need from me, and I will do it."