Caleb accepted some time ago that convincing himself out of loving Yussa was never going to be an option. Yet again, he is reminded of why. He can't get enough of him, and it at times, it really seems like Yussa feels the same. It is genuinely difficult to part, even knowing they are headed for something Caleb is looking forward to, when Yussa kisses him so coyly and so sweetly, and leaves him with a parting stroke that nearly makes him drag him back into his lap.
He takes his offered hand instead, and is assisted up to his feet. Yussa may be significantly smaller, but Caleb is still far from heavy. In the moment they linger there together, Caleb thinks of kissing him again, drawn to him as he always is, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. Yussa is right to turn and lead the way, though not without leaving Caleb with a little more warmth to carry with him.
Standing in Tidepeak's lavish sitting room while the tower's brilliant and attractive master, clad only in an open kaftan, lights the lamps for him is a truly surreal experience. Part of him still questions how he could possibly deserve this. Even dressed so simply, Yussa clearly belongs here; in the lamplight, he is golden and ethereal, his bare body a work of art. Erotic art, certainly; Caleb could never see him this way and not want him, wholly and completely. His cock, tucked back into his smalls, aches with the full weight of that desire.
But this is not his place. Yussa invites him into it, but only for a time. Of course he could never stay.
He must make his visits count, then. Moving to the older man with a few measured steps, Caleb reaches for him, drawing him close with hands sliding beneath the loose fabric he wears. He loves that he towers over him when they stand so close. He loves that he has to lean down to kiss him, warm and gently smiling. Fingers splay over his back, and others cover his hip, drawing him closer as Caleb kisses him deeper. A kiss, again, in lieu of words.
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He takes his offered hand instead, and is assisted up to his feet. Yussa may be significantly smaller, but Caleb is still far from heavy. In the moment they linger there together, Caleb thinks of kissing him again, drawn to him as he always is, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. Yussa is right to turn and lead the way, though not without leaving Caleb with a little more warmth to carry with him.
Standing in Tidepeak's lavish sitting room while the tower's brilliant and attractive master, clad only in an open kaftan, lights the lamps for him is a truly surreal experience. Part of him still questions how he could possibly deserve this. Even dressed so simply, Yussa clearly belongs here; in the lamplight, he is golden and ethereal, his bare body a work of art. Erotic art, certainly; Caleb could never see him this way and not want him, wholly and completely. His cock, tucked back into his smalls, aches with the full weight of that desire.
But this is not his place. Yussa invites him into it, but only for a time. Of course he could never stay.
He must make his visits count, then. Moving to the older man with a few measured steps, Caleb reaches for him, drawing him close with hands sliding beneath the loose fabric he wears. He loves that he towers over him when they stand so close. He loves that he has to lean down to kiss him, warm and gently smiling. Fingers splay over his back, and others cover his hip, drawing him closer as Caleb kisses him deeper. A kiss, again, in lieu of words.