"You will have me," Caleb promises. If there's anything he wants, it's to get out of here and prove to Yussa that he still has a brain in his head--fucking isn't all he thinks about.
That seems like an indication that he should get up and hand Yussa his clothes, so after he's been prestidigitated relatively clean, he makes an attempt. He feels wrung out and sore, but he's got to be doing better than Yussa. He pushes himself up, then slowly to the edge of the table, where he gets his footing carefully before standing.
Their clothing is a bit scattered, since they were both removing it in a hurry, but Caleb manages to collect all of it from the floor and place it on the table, Yussa's divided from his own. With a little momentum behind him, starting to get dressed isn't quite so daunting.
"Despite the circumstances, there is something satisfying about fucking on one of Halas' workroom tables," he observes wryly as he pulls on pants, glancing up to meet Yussa's eye with a curl of his lips.
no subject
That seems like an indication that he should get up and hand Yussa his clothes, so after he's been prestidigitated relatively clean, he makes an attempt. He feels wrung out and sore, but he's got to be doing better than Yussa. He pushes himself up, then slowly to the edge of the table, where he gets his footing carefully before standing.
Their clothing is a bit scattered, since they were both removing it in a hurry, but Caleb manages to collect all of it from the floor and place it on the table, Yussa's divided from his own. With a little momentum behind him, starting to get dressed isn't quite so daunting.
"Despite the circumstances, there is something satisfying about fucking on one of Halas' workroom tables," he observes wryly as he pulls on pants, glancing up to meet Yussa's eye with a curl of his lips.