There was something distinctly poignant about the moment they were sharing, raw and real. It set the stage for their relationship and how Essek hoped that it would always go, with them communicating like this, the deeper intimacy of it. Essek knelt there between those spread thighs and took in that body, the chest hair that he wanted to run fingers through, also the thigh hair, his expression which was hazed and flushed.. vulnerable.

Caleb Widogast was too beautiful for his own good.

Essek felt a softness come over him as he slowly poured oil on his fingers, recapped the cork on the bottle (was everything about him this methodical?) The only thing that betrayed his composure was how he bit at his lower lip, and perhaps his fingers as he spread those thighs: and then he was seeking out that ringed flesh, rolling a circle around it. How pliant it was, making sure that it relaxed just for him-- before finally the first finger edged inside.

His non-occupied hand encircled Caleb's prick once again, giving it a very light stroke with a palm that was oiled from previous preparations.

"Tell me what you thought about, Chathiu?" And Essek's voice was so soft and husky with desire.