Oh. Oh. It's that. Caleb's mind is immediately catapulted back--gods, was it really more than a year ago already?--to that frantic, somewhat concerning but thoroughly satisfying day and night spent tending to an utterly unsatiable Yussa, his body enflamed by a particularly potent accidental combination of components.
Well then.
"Consider me intrigued," he says, watching Yussa climb dripping from the pool and collect what he needs from the bedside cabinet with a gnawing hunger that (currently) has no outlet.
He has some concerns, namely the potency of the compound. Yussa was in a state for nearly a full day, and in the context of their game, Caleb has much less time. In fact, he doesn't particularly want to experience the level of intensity that Yussa had, either. The loss of control isn't something he wants for this particular experience, and as much as the idea of fucking Yussa all night appeals in theory, the idea of remaining hard without relief no matter how many times he comes is--well, actually, that sounds like something he would be very into. Just not tonight, unprepared for that sort of commitment as he is.
But Yussa assuages that fear without him even having to voice it. If he's refined it into a far less volatile form, Caleb trusts his work and his judgement. (Also, he's very curious as to how he knows it is predictable now. Has he been testing it on himself without inviting his lover? Caleb saves the playful affront he feels for later.)
"As long as I am not still sporting an erection when I walk out of here tomorrow, that sounds good to me," he jokes, wading through the water to lean against the side of the pool where Yussa sits. His hand covers the other man's knee when he places it there and squeezes. "This is generous, Yussa. Thank you."
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Well then.
"Consider me intrigued," he says, watching Yussa climb dripping from the pool and collect what he needs from the bedside cabinet with a gnawing hunger that (currently) has no outlet.
He has some concerns, namely the potency of the compound. Yussa was in a state for nearly a full day, and in the context of their game, Caleb has much less time. In fact, he doesn't particularly want to experience the level of intensity that Yussa had, either. The loss of control isn't something he wants for this particular experience, and as much as the idea of fucking Yussa all night appeals in theory, the idea of remaining hard without relief no matter how many times he comes is--well, actually, that sounds like something he would be very into. Just not tonight, unprepared for that sort of commitment as he is.
But Yussa assuages that fear without him even having to voice it. If he's refined it into a far less volatile form, Caleb trusts his work and his judgement. (Also, he's very curious as to how he knows it is predictable now. Has he been testing it on himself without inviting his lover? Caleb saves the playful affront he feels for later.)
"As long as I am not still sporting an erection when I walk out of here tomorrow, that sounds good to me," he jokes, wading through the water to lean against the side of the pool where Yussa sits. His hand covers the other man's knee when he places it there and squeezes. "This is generous, Yussa. Thank you."