Yussa's exploration certainly yields results; there is a definite stiffness in Caleb's jeans, his cock half hard from conversation and kissing alone. He barely manages to bite back what probably would have been an embarrassing moan at the sudden direct touch. But Yussa will certainly be able to feel the way the muscles in his stomach quiver and clench, with little to prevent him from getting his hand under his sweater and the thin shirt beneath.

"Good," Caleb murmurs, though his accent is heavy enough that it sounds more like the Zemnian version of the word. "You were so eager for me to finish inside you last night that I intend to do it again."

In that low, playful declaration is a veiled question he should have asked sooner: is that still all right?

His fingers give another slow caress between Yussa's legs, this one with more deliberate pressure now that he knows Yussa is not tender enough for it to be a deterrent. Even through the layers of fabric he can feel the heat of the older man's cunt, it suddenly he desperately doesn't want either of them to be dressed any longer.