(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]

[ 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?