There were many different shapes to hope and honestly Essek was beginning to find that out. Caleb was his home, and he slowly attended to the locks of hair reverently, lovingly. It was easy to see in this moment why hair touching was intimate, but also grooming like this-- it also explained why Essek had a singular fascination with Caleb's chest hair, the hair on other parts of his body. He smiled at the way that Caleb seemed to enjoy it, the soft slow blinking like a cat in front of a warm fire.

Caleb deserved a warm home, with good food, a hearth fire in the grate as well as a pile of cats to cover him. He hoped that he could be apart of that vision too.

Essek leaned forward then and brushed his lips against Caleb's forehead; the skin was damp and there was only a little subtle taste of soap, but that was also pleasing. Finally he pulled away so that he could reach for the cup again, dipping it in the waters so that he could fill it and then re-saturate it to get rid of the shampoo. "I want to be your home-- I want you to be mine; I want to return to you again and again."