(PSL) Normally this is where I'd put lyrics...

[raycasting]

...but most of the darksynth genre doesn't use lyrics.

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[cyberhunk]

[ Dolph used to play a game at bars. It made spending nights there slightly less of a bore while the rest of his squad drank themselves stupid. The goal of said game was pretty simple, in that there was only one. He'd seek out men who gave off an aura of single bachelor and try to make them blush in as few words as possible. Blondes always seemed to "lose" the fastest, and maybe that played into why he fancied them so much.

Poor Ramon is now on the side of Dolph's face where he can't even pretend he isn't being watched. The pupil of one brown eye sits at the corner, basking in the rouge. Beneath the lapping water, Dolph's fingers release the soft fold of skin and fondly pet away any discomfort.

He's speechless by choice when Ramon suddenly performs a bend that would've snapped anyone else. That's because silence amplifies everything. Sensations almost certainly, but imagery, too. It makes it feel like there's more time to take things in, and like he's noticing what he might otherwise not—like muscles contracting to interact with others that don't exist, all as if to produce movement in parts that aren't even attached to them.

Dolph has to admit that he doesn't understand how Ramon works, and so far his hands on approach isn't getting him any closer to figuring it out.

Roles switch. Dolph demonstrates his trust by closing his good eye. After sending a few queries to his system, his other eye powers down as well, temporarily freeing him from an otherwise constant stream of visual information. He then sits in perfect, warm darkness letting his other senses form a fuzzy image of what's being done to him in his mind. He could let it drift, let the hand tending to him become anyone else's he could imagine, but he's better than that. It's still Ramon touching him very gingerly around his cybernetics, like he's afraid he could do more damage than the process of conversion already has. Dolph's lips part underneath the pad of the large finger pressing the damp cloth against them. He senses hesitation, or intrigue, or both, and enables it by slowly exhaling a hot breath into the cooling fibers. ]

Please. It's a bitch by myself.

[ And Dolph does sound desperate, clutching the air with the fingers of his chrome hand to bring attention to just how many articulations there are in each one for strands of hair to get stuck in. His choice has always been to rip half of it out, or settle for being as thorough as he can with one hand.

Or to offload the duty onto a partner.

But it's nicer when they volunteer.

To simplify things, Dolph shifts off the ledge and lowers himself until he's just a head above the water. His arm fully wraps around Ramon for the ride like an anaconda of human muscle, keeping him held tight to his midriff as he makes the move, and then held tight still once he's resettled onto his knees.

It's as if, for Dolph, close isn't close enough. Because it isn't. It's as if he's been out in a blizzard and this moment of contact is what he's clinging to warm himself. Because, in a way, he has and he is. ]

[raycasting]

[Does this make Ramon his biggest blonde loser yet? Blushing at zero words. Hah, take that, unknown competition! You'll never get a lower score than that. By the time Dolph opens (and reactivates) his eyes again, the blush has faded, leaving only a ghost in its wake.

He sees a chrome hand come up in his peripheral vision, and is the only thing in this room strong enough to pull Ramon's attention away from Dolph's face. He watches as those points of articulation fold into each other. He doesn't intuit it immediately, but he's given just enough pieces to think about it and put it together in a brief second's time.]

--Oh.

[He winces intensely, and his own fingers curl into fists over his thumbs in empathetic pain.]

Ennhhhrrrr.

[He meant for the offer to be a romantic gesture. But now that his attention has been brought to how much of a hassle it is for Dolph, he feels a little bad for not offering it platonically sooner.

That doesn't mean that this instance can't be romantic, though...

He is essentially removed from his (very comfortable!) perch on Dolph's lap when he adjusts himself to get deeper into the water. He can't be arsed to complain, though -- this vice grip of an embrace is quite nice. The only drawback is that it's a gesture he can't return. The best approximation he can do is place his palms on his upper back as their position shifts. Holy shit, even his back is ripped. Has he never noticed before? Or has he just never seen Dolph shirtless for long enough to even see it in the first place? Ramon wants to see more of that, thank you very much.

Dolph clearly isn't intent to let him go even as he settles into place. Now he has no choice but to actually reach across the bath to get his shampoo and conditioner. But before he does that, he reaches for the bottle of rum and takes a quick nip of it before holding it out within reach of Dolph's metal arm, else risk forcing the other to let go of his embrace, in offering. Afterwards, with his hands free, he cups a generous amount of bathwater within his hands and gently pours it over the crown of Dolph's head. Twice.

A single hand is all he needs to reach across the tub and, using a thumb, depresses the plunger on a powder-blue bottle into his awaiting fingers. Tea tree and mint; he likes the brighter scents. Dolph will smell like "Rayman" by the end of this, which is a part of him that most people don't get to experience unless they're lucky enough to work in the studio. One of Eden's better-kept secrets, only by happenstance.

One of the things that are intentional secrets is that their mascot has fingernails. Just another thing that makes him seem more organic and living, instead of plastic and toylike. He likes wearing gloves because they keep his hands warm, but it's a convenient convergence of motivations on Eden's part. In this moment, however, it will be acutely obvious as he drives his thick fingertips and blunt fingernails into Dolph's scalp in a deep, confident massage.

He's a little bit less careful around his cybernetics this time around. From this vantage, he doesn't see exactly where they start and end through his dark hair and the suds, so he only has touch to go by when navigating.

Ramon does a bit of sleight of hand where he spends some time getting Dolph used to the pressure he uses, and eventually starts backing off just enough to bait Dolph into leaning back to seek out the same deep pressure. He will, of course, be duly rewarded when he puts his head exactly where Ramon wants it.

There's a second where Ramon's hands still, and an impossibly large mass presses itself against Dolph's lips.

Ramon isn't really built for the way that humans kiss -- a real, proper, full-mouthed kiss. One has to get to the underside of his head to get to anything that isn't just the corners of his mouth. He has to tilt his head so that he's pointed at the ceiling, and given a bit of an angle to the side so that Dolph's whole face isn't smashed against the underside of Ramon's nose. If he was connected to a neck, this would be impossible at worst and uncomfortable at best, but thankfully it doesn't feel like anything other than kind of ridiculous from a third person's perspective. Even among life on Earth, this kind of kissing is pretty novel to humans, so of course the alien from Dimension X isn't built for it either. Just one of the countless human habits he's spent a lifetime trying to emulate.

He makes the best of it, though.

He still has the same articulation in his mouth as a human at least, so the lip-lock is simultaneously accurate and overwhelming. What covers the entire span of Dolph's mouth is only a fraction of Ramon's. He's obviously practiced this on others -- a conscious, almost surgically accurate execution of not going too far. Not too stiff, not too loose, as he captures Dolph's lower lip between his, adding the slightest touch of suction.]

[cyberhunk]

[ Well—Dolph has the rum now. Blind as he is without his visual center online, the way his fingers tink-tink-tink! against the glass lets him know what's in his multi-million credit grip, not to mention he could hear Ramon sucking down the contents seconds beforehand. He huffs softly. He has to when he thinks about how many Eden corpos would loose their minds if the public ever laid eyes on this scene. Their biggest bounty head schmoozing it up with their poster boy while their technological masterpiece serves as a cupholder.

Their drink still nearly ends up mixed in the bath once Ramon begins kneading the soap into Dolph's head, causing him to relax dangerously low in the water. How nice it feels is only partially to blame, of course. The second time Ramon's hand starts to seem like it's getting further and further away, Dolph suspects it's no accident, but he continues to chase it back down with little stretches of his neck anyway.

He hums his approval, and this bathroom's acoustics are simply too good for it to be mistaken as anything else. The pores on his back puff up into goosebumps as tingly-yet-pleasant waves pass below the skin. God, he mutters aloud at one point, in a flummoxed way. He doesn't explain and he doesn't stop tensing his muscles, trying to trap the good sensation before it disappears somewhere halfway down his spinal cord. It's not even sexual, not by itself, and not for now. However, the nails digging into his scalp and the fingertips they're attached to can only remind him how broad they are so many times before Dolph fixates on them. He's already expressed his needs, so there's no shame in it.

So, again—Ramon has big hands. Meanwhile, Dolph's in a ritzy hot tub with a cocktail in his stomach and his cock out. What was he ever supposed to do with that information, other than imagine how they would feel doing other things to his body?

The kiss Ramon leans in for is chaste in comparison. How awkward it might look to an observer clearly isn't something Dolph contemplates, either. There isn't a moment where his lips stay still once contact is made. They respond as if on a hair-trigger, eager and more alive than they've ever been just sitting dourly on his saturnine face. Dolph supplies just enough force to let Ramon know that he'll only be in the lead for as long as he doesn't let up. When Ramon does eventually slow to suck sweetly at his lower lip, Dolph pulls away, stretching the skin until it comes free with a popping sound.

Maybe it seems cold at first, but after Dolph takes a deliberate swig of spirits he's on his way back to push a boozy tongue into Ramon's mouth, sweeping the tip over the sensitive endothelium inside to let him know he's there. He forgets to be concerned about what he might find in the mouth of a completely alien species. He's only amazed at the scale of the teeth within as he traces those next, setting himself up to have another series of dirty thoughts.

Suds keep his organic eye closed, but his other socket flashes green for a second, supplying him with a snapshot of... blurry dark beige, which he realizes is Ramon up close.

Heh.

He finishes drawing one last sensual shape with his tongue before he recollects himself to speak. ]

You've spent time perfecting that.

[ Dolph slips on a rare smile to make it clear that he found the last few moments enjoyable ]

More than some human boys.

[raycasting]

[For a split second, Ramon thinks that Dolph is trying to claim the lead. Dolph would notice a brief tic of hesitation while Ramon tries to decide whether or not to hand it over, but ultimately decides to stand his ground. They're meeting each other on the same level, and Ramon isn't in the mood to go into this on the back foot.

Ramon doesn't feel particularly rejected when Dolph first pulls away. All good things have to come to an end, after all, and it's almost a relief that Dolph calls this particular shot because Ramon had only acted on a whim without an exit strategy in mind.

That being said, he's not expecting the re-entry after Dolph supps from the bottle. He mildly startles as his recently-freed mouth ends up with more than it bargained for, even if it's only a garter snake entering a bear cave. But he won't let it throw him off. Ramon captures his tongue between his teeth and lips, just enough to say you're trapped in here forever...or for as long as Dolph wants to stick around and doodle on the walls before pulling back. Turns out that Ramon wasn't holding on as hard as it felt.

It's not possible to simply transfer daydreams and imagination to someone else, but Dolph comes damn near close to pulling it off. Even with his mouth removed from Ramon's, the ghost of his tongue's presence remains, leaving an electric fizzle in its wake. He can fit a lot more than just Dolph's tongue in his mouth...

Oh, fuck.

He can really feel it now. It's just like a high. Dolph has injected himself into his brain chemistry, wedging himself between the synapses of Ramon's neurons and changing how the world feels, even if it looks exactly the same. Dolph will be able to feel the long, slow exhale from the underside of Ramon's nose, warm air barely different from the vapor coming off the bath. His fingers tighten in Dolph's hair, inadvertently pulling it taut in his grip.

He's talking. It's the only thing his senses can fixate on. The sound of his words, the deep monotone melody of his voice, the way it makes the air vibrate against his skin, the smell and taste of too-sweet rum on his breath.

Praise.

Ramon is caught red-handed going too full-bore into something again. His knee-jerk reaction is to get self-conscious, but he really doesn't want to be. He just wants to actively enjoy someone acknowledging his sincerity and hard work for once. The first thing that comes to mind is to self-disparage, and he doesn't manage to stop himself in time.]

You still think of me as a boy?

[Okay, could have been worse. He smirks. It's a rhetorical question. Ramon likes to think that half the reason why Dolph is so conservative with his use of words is because he's too busy observing at any given time, and while Ramon hasn't brought any direct attention to it...well, it'd be hard not to notice, right?

He lets go of Dolph's hair. He backs up, just a little, just enough to get a better view of what he's doing, as he cups water in his hands and gently pours it over his scalp to rinse the shampoo away. It's going to take a few rounds of this to completely rid him of the suds, but he's not going to ask Dolph to dunk if only because he enjoys watching the way it cascades over his sharp facial features, often bringing strands of black hair to momentary life under the current.]

...I wanted to perfect it.

[Maybe he won't be so self-conscious about his sincerity if he just owns up to it.]

I don't think you humans realize that no one in the multiverse does sex quite like you do...even on your own planet. It's the intersection of ritual and self-expression. I wanted to understand it.

[Actually, since we're already here, he might as well get Dolph up to speed on what's going on down there and why.]

I wasn't born. I was made. You know -- kind of like hybrids, but instead of a science experiment, it's an art project. I'm someone's vision...the manifestation of her imagination, hopes, dreams, fears...unconcerned about mistakes and imperfections. That's why I've always been drawn to things of self-expression on Earth. It's kinship. So of course I learned how to do it the way humans do.

[With all of the shampoo washed away, Ramon cups Dolph's jaw with his hand and swipes his thumb across the closed lids of his warmer eye so that he can open it, free of suds.]

Thank God she had the foresight to bless me with just enough to discover the euphoria of orgasm later on in my life.

[He's not being even remotely clinical right now. Not at all like the way he talks about it in the several hundred hours worth of sex ed tapes for a half-dozen different grade levels, from Rayman Explains Your Changing Body to Contraceptive Options with Rayman. In this moment, the real passion he has for this subject material is abundantly clear in his voice. And yet, despite his desire to capture that raw, emotional connection for himself...

...until this very moment, he's only ever been able to enjoy it in the way Eden wants anything to be enjoyed. Scripted. Marketable. Consumable. Profitable.

But he's not thinking about it in those specific terms right now. All he knows is that, while undeniably fun in its own right, it's just a phantom of what he's always wanted. And in the end, if he had to choose between a hundred gorgeous sex workers and the chance to wash Dolph's hair, well...in a way, he already did.]

You already know what I'm talking about. Ritual and self-expression...

[Ramon places his free hand against the middle of Dolph's chest, with the heel of his hand pointed upward and his fingers downward. He slides that hand downward, his fingertips riding up and down every rolling hill of his lean muscle, every inch of the journey given its due admiration in this leisurely Sunday drive down Dolph's midsection.

His head hovers over to the metal side of Dolph's face in the time it takes him to get down to his navel. As he crosses that last stretch of muscle, he comes to a crawling stop right before he gets to the completely hairless base of his cock, resting on flesh sensitive in its own right. Sure, Dolph may be able to take a hell of a licking, but does he have the wherewithal to resist the tickle of a feather-light touch and keep his dick from bobbing with an involuntary twitch of abdominal muscle? Ramon might be tempting it intentionally.

In that lower-register voice that will never be caught on camera, he whispers into the chrome shell that is a rough approximation of an ear:]

Tell me...

Is this part of your regular grooming routine...

...or did you think about me the whole time, hoping I'd say yes?