Hidden against Yussa's chest as the man presses a kiss to his hair, Caleb's face heats all over again at the translation of those fond-sounding murmured words. There's a happy little flutter in his chest and warm rush of arousal that settles low in his stomach, though his body still has no outlet for it. He's glad Yussa can't see his bashful smile, because it's ridiculous that something so simple should have such an effect on him. His response is another quiet kiss to the same spot.

This is comfortable and intimate, curled up against and around each other as they both take time to recover. That little flutter in Caleb's chest only grows at the gentle way Yussa touches him. He returns it by letting his lips drift softly over his skin.

But as nice as this is, he could use some water too. He withdraws his fingers with care, rubbing them gently through his folds to leave the majority of the slickness there as lays a soft kiss against his forehead.

"I'll find them," he promises, and after the two of them are disentangled, sways to his feet to look around the room again. A quick cast of Prestidigitation cleans his hands completely, and he spots the pitcher and cups on the low table near the center of the room. He pours two up to the brim, taking a moment to take a long sip from one and refill it before returning to the bed with both, feeling slightly less parched. Folding one leg up under him as he settles near Yussa again, sitting up this time, he offers the untouched cup.