Caleb nods, noting both the weariness and still-apparent arousal in Yussa's voice. The other man manages to get himself into a sitting position, thighs still hugging the bolster. Before he can move any further, however, Caleb clicks his tongue as though just remembering something, and says, "Ah, but first--stay there a moment, bitte."
His own legs could be steadier, but moving gets easier the longer he is upright. It's only a few steps between the bed and the table Yussa had referenced earlier with its selection of toys laid out for his perusal. He knows the one he wants already, and it takes less than fifteen seconds to retrieve the plug and return to Yussa on the bed. He holds it up, making sure Yussa sees what is in his hand before he reaches for the oil again. With the state Yussa is in, slicking it probably isn't strictly necessary, but Caleb prefers to be careful and courteous about such things even when he is the one in control. Especially then, even.
"Lean forward just a little, schatz--ja, gut," he instructs quietly. One hand holds Yussa's hip as the other presses the freshly oiled glass plug to his stretched hole. He barely needs to work to slip it inside, settling the flared base flush to Yussa's skin. "There," he murmurs. "Something for later." He kisses the back of Yussa's shoulder tenderly, pats his hip, and then rises from the bed again.
Caleb is caring and conscientious, almost gentlemanly as he guides Yussa from bed to bath with an arm around him, slipping into the water first to help the other man in after him. The water is a pleasant temperature, neither too hot nor too cold--magically so, he would guess. The flower petals add a soft, pleasant scent, and even exhausted as he is, Yussa looks lovely among them. A hand remains on the small of his lover's back, steadying. Calloused fingers, now dripping with bathwater, smooth a lock of sweat-damp hair back from Yussa's face. "May I help you wash?" he requests, ready to reach for the soap.
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His own legs could be steadier, but moving gets easier the longer he is upright. It's only a few steps between the bed and the table Yussa had referenced earlier with its selection of toys laid out for his perusal. He knows the one he wants already, and it takes less than fifteen seconds to retrieve the plug and return to Yussa on the bed. He holds it up, making sure Yussa sees what is in his hand before he reaches for the oil again. With the state Yussa is in, slicking it probably isn't strictly necessary, but Caleb prefers to be careful and courteous about such things even when he is the one in control. Especially then, even.
"Lean forward just a little, schatz--ja, gut," he instructs quietly. One hand holds Yussa's hip as the other presses the freshly oiled glass plug to his stretched hole. He barely needs to work to slip it inside, settling the flared base flush to Yussa's skin. "There," he murmurs. "Something for later." He kisses the back of Yussa's shoulder tenderly, pats his hip, and then rises from the bed again.
Caleb is caring and conscientious, almost gentlemanly as he guides Yussa from bed to bath with an arm around him, slipping into the water first to help the other man in after him. The water is a pleasant temperature, neither too hot nor too cold--magically so, he would guess. The flower petals add a soft, pleasant scent, and even exhausted as he is, Yussa looks lovely among them. A hand remains on the small of his lover's back, steadying. Calloused fingers, now dripping with bathwater, smooth a lock of sweat-damp hair back from Yussa's face. "May I help you wash?" he requests, ready to reach for the soap.