Caleb hums, positive but non-comittal. Perhaps not only, but this is rare. This sort of submission comes naturally to him, but it is something he must guard closely, something he cannot entrust to just anyone. Tonight Yussa has wielded the power Caleb willingly handed him not only respectfully and enjoyably, but expertly. So well that Caleb would be willing to offer him even more. Finding this, finding Yussa, feels like a one-in-a-million chance.

"I wanted to tend to your needs," he says, echoing his own earlier words, low, quiet, and warm. "But you are an incredible man. I could not help wanting to be good for you. To give you everything you might desire."

He's rolled his still unsteady limbs less than gracefully onto the bed, laying on his side close enough to Yussa that their legs still tangle and he can easily lean over him to capture his lips in a lazy kiss, unable to resist the pull of that beautiful, relaxed grin. Yussa is radiant like this, soft and loose and well-fucked and happy, content to be dripping Caleb's come onto the bedsheets. He did that. He did that. The pleasure and relief and momentary peace of mind that brings him is absolutely priceless.

Caleb's hair, slightly mussed again, sticks to his skin too, flushed and hot, but gradually cooling. His muscles are going to be sore tomorrow, but he likes that. It will be like carrying this night with him, lingering in this warm feeling a little longer.

When his lips leave Yussa's and he collapses against the bed again, he smiles, wide and honest.