In the warm light of the lanterns, Yussa's skin looks bronze, almost gold. Caleb's eyes are dark when he straightens up enough to look at him, bent over his smaller body with both of his hands between their legs. Free strands of his hair hang down around his face despite pulling it back again. It looks nicer in this light than it had in the club, or even downstairs; a vibrant, rich red. He strokes himself to the same slow rhythm he's now using to fuck Yussa, deep, thorough drag with his fingers tucked together.

Yussa's demand makes him twitch in his hand with how eager he is to fulfill it, how much those words turn him on. He has no desire to prolong this when they both so badly need the same thing.

"How do you want me?" He can feel the gravelly scrape of his voice in his throat. He takes such care sliding his fingers out, leaving Yussa empty. Using that hand to replace the one on his cock, he coats his shaft with the wetness clinging to his fingers. "Like this?"

His other hand is now free to guide Yussa's legs open further with a hand hooked under his knee, folding it back toward his chest to open him up. A small shuffle lets Caleb press the head of his cock to his stretched entrance. The hot, slick kiss of his cunt, so ready to open should he push even a little harder, draws out a soft whimper of a moan.