Though his eyes were closed and he was uncomfortable from the regeneration happening within his body, he listed to every word Kuval said. With his eyes closed, he pictured him in the waters: a spear of a different sort in his hand. Now that he thought about it, the strength of which he threw it, enough so to pin a man to a wall, shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. When you spend time living underwater your muscles grow used to the resistance of it. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure how far below the waves the other man dwelled. Hell, if it were near the bottom…Yes, he wouldn’t be quick to forget his strength any time soon. Perhaps that had something to do with why his humanoid form was so much stronger with less softness than that of his natural state.

His nose wrinkled, “They have their uses. When they’re in a group like that though…” He shook his head, even more irritated. With no magick for an unknown amount of time, and his body on the slow and painful mend, he had to accept the fact that any plans he had against Kuval needed to be put to bed. Until next time at least. For now, he had him in his room and there were other useful things he could get from him. Knowledge was more precious than any organic ingredient. And, as stated, he had his strength to consider. Ah well… Still, it was odd sitting and conversing with another person. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, it made him feel naked.

“No doubt they would have had their chance with you had you not dispatched them so quickly. Seafood.” He brought a hand up and scratched through his hair. He needed to bathe, not that he was dirty exactly, but the salt in his hair was becoming irritating and he’d been planning on going to the shore before retiring. So much for that. He wasn’t used to staying dry for so long. ‘you seem to have the ocean in your own veins.’ His hand paused, his eyes barely opening to move to the side to look at his barely exposed wrist. The near black blue lines there were still dead and flat, and his heart lurched… “I have your canteen, don’t fuss.” It wasn’t snapped like he had intended, but his mind was elsewhere.

For emphasis, he reached out his other hand and took up the canteen once more, taking a long drink from it before recapping. The coolness of it was still a blessing down his throat and his eyes closed again, tighter; letting some of the water rest in his mouth before swallowing it down. He looked back at Kuval, his arms wound around his legs and it all seemed too normal. He wasn’t normal, he didn’t do normal things, and that exposing feeling wouldn’t leave, “What are you doing here anyhow?” It was a simple question, but an honest one. Somehow their paths had crossed again, and he couldn’t just take that as coincidence. Temperance flickered in his thoughts once more, and he wondered briefly which of them was the water, and which the wine.

Watching the man drink was making Kuval thirsty as well. It wasn’t uncommon, of course, but watching the stretch of his neck as he swallowed just made it all the more apparent. Pulling another canteen free, he down a bit himself before answering.

“You invited me,” he said with a joking smile before shrugging, “I’ve been traveling. With my legs finally doing what I ask of them, it seemed like a good time to go exploring. I’m not sure how I feel about this area though. It’s been interesting, at least.”

Which was the truth. Kuval loved a good adventure almost more than he loved his own safety. Had someone told him that he’d get into a fight if he went, no details included, he still would have come without blinking. That being noted, the word ‘seafood’ sounded in his head again like the heavy tone of a chastising father.

“Do you mind if I take a few layers off? I can’t seem to get used to the feel of it on my skin. It almost hurts,” he admitted, already starting to pull his cloak off. He tossed it gently atop his bag and moved his hands next to his shirt, “I get shoes. Shoes protect the feet, but the rest of this seems superfluous… but I guess you’d look weird if you walked around in only boots.”

But those words brought him around to another thought. Humans, unlike his own kind, had anatomy they wanted to protect beneath their pants. Conditions simply weren’t the same. Sometimes he nearly forgot that newfound part of himself was even there until it acted up. Now definitely wasn’t the time to think about that though. Thinking about it simply lead to it acting up.

“Is human skin more fragile? I think mine is the same as yours on that…”

It was now that he wondered what it must be like to change shape so drastically. As much as he’d like to be able to switch forms with him to know what it was like, he truthfully had no idea how he’d adjust to such a difference. The closest he could compare it to would be bound legs. What was the reverse like? Awkward, surely. He’d had legs his whole life and found himself tripping over them on packed land since his footing had grown so used to shifting sand. Kuval appeared to have made the adjustment well, and he was only a little envious of the observation.

“When the inhabitants aren’t being so insufferable it isn’t too bad of a place to be in. I’d never make the cross over to this continent permanently though, for obvious reasons.” He was a being of magick, he’d never last here with that lingering paranoia. He asked about removing clothes and he shook his head indifferently, “Strip as much as you need to, it makes no difference to me. The dryness is irritating me so greatly I’m sure I won’t be far behind you.” He rested the capped canteen back on the floor.

A smirk lingered at the edge of his lips at the thought of walking around only in boots. That would become problematic quickly with the carnal appetites of people nowadays, himself included. “Your skin isn’t used to it no doubt,” he nodded towards him in indication, “being used to water as much as you are. Is that the reason for the…” He tapped the edge of the canteen and jutted his chin towards the one Kuval still had.

“In any case, yes, I’d say our skin is much more fragile than yours. We aren’t creatures meant for the pressures of water, nor are we insulated. Even with gained weight it hardly does anything useful other than show you have enough coin or stamina to feed yourself.” He brought a hand up and chewed lightly on the nail of his middle finger, still tasting salt. By this point it was his constant state of being, only having use for fresh water to keep himself alive or the inhabitants of his tanks and certain tide pools.

He shifted his finger and pressed the edge of one of his canines against the tip just enough to draw up a pin point of blood before holding his hand out; palm facing the other, “That was barely a nick. Yes, humans are more fragile. Weak.” He sucked the blood from his finger and rolled his shoulders back to remove his hooded jacket, and then worked on the buttons of his shirt underneath. The more he thought about it, the more his skin itched.

“Oh thank you,” Kuval sighed in almost relief. He set his canteen down and began the process of removing his boots as he continued to listen. It was nice in a way, for this witch to understand the sensation too. He wondered what made the man so bonded to the ocean. Surely there was a reason for it? Then again, that world was beautiful… Sometimes he missed it painfully, but lucky for him the ocean was plentiful and easy to find again. He couldn’t imagine loving it as much as he did and being trapped on land…

Is that how he feels…? Trapped on land? Kuval wondered, but the tried to shake it off. It seemed silly to assume the two were equally obsessed, didn’t it?

He discarded a boot haphazardly, jolting slightly at the thud before internally laughing it off a bit. His fingers deftly moved to the second boot, undoing the laces of this one as well. Without realizing it, he was moving quicker at the idea of relief from these binds.

“My body still craves the water,” he said in answer to the question. For a moment Kuval paused, trying to remember the word. There’d been a woman once who told him, but try as he might it never seemed to stay on his tongue. His pale brow furrowed in thought as he tried to piece it out without the term, “It’s missing it a lot. Like in a bad way. I get really sick if I don’t drink it a lot. I seem to need more than twice what a human does. If there were a way to make these canteens endless, I’d love to know.”

Tossing the second boot, Kuval leaned back against the door to move his hands to the fastenings of these leg traps. His body arches against the framework as he started to pull them down, “I can’t imagine my skin being so weak. Do the clothes really help that much though? They’re just as thin! At the least, I wish it was acceptable for me to be naked if I wanted to be. Thin skin be damned.”

As if to punctuate the curse, he slapped his pants into the pile with the rest of his clothes on top of his bag. Slowly his shoulders began to see, his body resting much more casually against the frame of the door.

Much better, he thought, Much, much better…

His eyebrows furrowed as he described the feeling of dehydration. He watched his fingers work against the laces, undo his fastenings, and followed the line of his stomach up his chest and back to his face. Odd. “Dehydration.” he said. “You’re talking about dehydration. That makes sense. Fish that flop up on land die from it quickly, it serves to believe that you’d suffer in the same way.” An endless canteen though, his mind was already buzzing with ideas for how to make that work. Spells wound themselves through his mind’s eye, he deconstructed summoning circles, went through his mental appendix of crystals and herbs. Yes, there was a way to do that, it would just take time.

“The clothes you’re wearing? Hardly.” His eyes halved in boredom, not towards him or the conversation, but in how ordinary the human world was in comparison to where this man had come from. “No, something far more useful would be a coat of animal skins, leather, or armor…” His nose wrinkled at the idea of so much restriction, “Though in my opinion that’s much worse. I usually depend on magick to give me what clothes can’t.” Which was true: if he was hot he could cool himself, vice versa if he was cold he could warm himself. Clothes were a second thought by this point, and just made it easier when he had to deal with society.

Kuval finished undressing himself and was lounging, unabashedly nude against the door. It was then that he realized his own fingers had paused on his buttons and he averted his eyes from him. Maybe it was knowing what Kuval was, having that respect towards anything that birthed from the ocean, but it felt near disrespectful to be looking at him. He was instantly irritated by that train of thought. His fingers continued working the buttons nimbly before moving it off and letting it drop to the floor.

“I can fix that water problem for you.” He pushed up from the ground, blinking hard as the blood rushed to his head. His heart pulsed hard and strong, so much so that he nearly staggered from it. Yes, Angela’s tonic was working beautifully. He blinked it away as he walked towards the small connecting room to this one where he could find a tub and shower head. All the while he swiftly undid the fastenings of his pants and moved them off; his feet were bare as usual. He touched the wick of the candle in the room and grimaced at how it hadn’t come to life with fire. This dead zone was getting old. Quick. When would it pass?! Sighing, he took the box of matches next to it and lit the lights in the wash room before turning the faucet to get water running, perfectly comfortable in his own nakedness,

“With your canteens I mean.” He brought his hands under the running water and visibly eased from how cold it was against his skin. Being careful not to splash, he cupped a hand under the running water and then ran it along his shoulders and neck. The lines of deep blue on his skin ran down the undersides of his arms, sides of his neck, along his spine to flower out at his shoulder blades. He frowned, there was no reaction from them, even when water was dripping down his back and sides. It was going to be a long night.

Dehydration. That was the terrible word that Kuval kept forgetting. You’d think something so quick to kill you would be easy to keep track of. Maybe it was just his distaste for the idea that kept ejecting the term from his mind. He tried again, likely in vain, to lock it away as he watched Dorian stand up.

It felt too early for movement, too dangerous, but at the same time he could see how quickly the witch was getting better. Whatever was in the flask had clearly been amazing so he cemented himself to watching him cautiously in case he was needed. He was curious himself at what that must feel like. Disorienting, to say the least. Healing in itself wasn’t always a fun process, but Dorian was doing well with it.

At the very mention of the canteen possibly, Kuval felt himself spark excitedly. He spoke up as the other moved into the next room, “Could you really?”

He sat up slightly more against the door in his eagerness, turning himself more toward the man. He was surprised to see how easily Dorian was moving from room to room, but happy for it. As he watched the man walk his mind slowly began to shift from the curiosity about the canteen to another that was forming without Kuval even realizing it was happening.

By this point the witch had managed to discard his own clothes and, as he struck the match in the nearby room, the exposure of his body was enough to keep the usual flinch at bay. Dorian’s was somehow so different, so similar, so completely new to him. Their bodies, both male, still were distinctly unmatched.

Their frames, for instance. Kuval knew his own to be broad and, though the witch wasn’t necessarily slender, he felt large in comparison. But then that too was wrong! Dorian was taller than he, considerably taller. Their prepositions matched their bodies and yet seemed completely contrary. It was beautiful…

As Dorian leaned slightly over the sink, Kuval was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the words being said. Instead his mind was focused on the roll of the water along his skin… He watched as it traced the contours of the man’s toned muscles, quickly at first, and then slower as if even they, too, wanted to linger there a moment.

There were many things that could be said about the new man and this new body. One of the simplest that he hadn’t yet gathered control of was threatening to rear its head again. Lust wasn’t something he’d been accustomed to in this magnitude. Things back home had been, simply put, completely different than here.

Kuval wasn’t aware that he’d forgotten to react to words he would have otherwise been excited about, nor that this confusing body was starting to betray him in more ways than one. No, his jumpy attention span had bounced to the newest attraction and there it seemed eager to remain. Impulses he hadn’t even known were inside him started up as well.

Suddenly the room was much too hot and finally, as a last ditch effort to right himself, he managed to lift his canteen to his lips and take a deep swing. What’s wrong with me?

Worse than the dryness from lack of being in the waves, was the itch of dried blood on his skin. His own blood at that. There was a decent amount on his neck, that shoulder, down his chest and back. The bastard had gotten him good and too much had spilled before getting to the flask, despite his attempts at keeping pressure with his hand. Now he looked down in to the basin, watching as the water ran red from his hands slowly moving under the stream. Maybe getting in the shower to wash would be better, but when he was honest with himself the idea of being somewhere slippery while still coming around wasn’t the safest idea. Especially with no magick.

So instead he rubbed his hands vigorously under the water, scratching away patches of more stubborn red on his palms. After that he brought water up and eyed himself in the mirror. Had this not been his own blood then he would have taken a level of pride or pleasure from seeing himself blood splattered. This was not the case. He had to look away from his own reflection, it was odd now to see his eyes so dim. The physical proof that he was without magick was the harshest slap by nature. Instead, he chanced turning his head and looking at his neck. His eyes halved, the puncture wounds were still there, though sealed enough to no longer have blood escape. It would likely be the rest of the night before they were completely gone.

For now, he took water and move it against his neck, shoulder, what he could get of his back and then his chest. It would have to do for now, and he wasn’t going to use soap just yet, he just desperately needed this itch to be gone. After doing so is when he realized that it had grown uncharacteristically quiet. Not that he and Kuval were the most talkative pair, but he’d expected more reaction to the possibility of his canteen problem having a possible solution. He looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed as the canteen lowered from the other’s lips. He was staring at him. Why.

And then he recognized it, that pull, that shift. He knew it well, it was a look he’d learned to hide during his more formative years. It was a lustful pull that he’d notice in anyone’s eyes. This same look was what he fed on, harped on, the easiest way to get the more innocent and naïve of prey. And he hadn’t even had to do anything. Ah… Well, he was completely bare after all, a fact that he wouldn’t have predicted would affect Kuval. Not this quickly at least. Now his own gaze shifted, darkened, the usual predatory focus returning as well as a slow smirk at the edge of his lips.

He didn’t let his eyes move away from his as he moved a hand out and turned off the spigot. Silence filled the room where the splash of running water had once been, and he allowed it to linger a moment longer before walking towards him with slow and carefully measured steps. All the while his eyes never pulled from his, and he was internally cursing that this time of all times was when he had no magick! A lustful man was an easy man. Ah, no magickal gain could be taken from this, but he was never one to refuse pleasure if it was within his grasp.

When he was mere inches from him, his shins nearly touching Kuval’s pulled-up knees, he stopped and looked down at him. It was a power stance, this he knew, just as he knew that this man could take him out quickly should he want to. His smirk widened, knowing full well that he didn’t want to. Without a word he slowly moved his eyes down from his, along his lips where he could still see moisture from his drink of the canteen. Down his chin, the tautness of his neck and well defined form of his chest and abdomen all the way down until they were on the undeniable proof of his lust.

“A pull to men…” His voice was quiet, yet somehow deafening from the silence, and near unnaturally soft for him, “I’m surprised and yet I feel like I shouldn’t be.” Being sure not to take more than a half step back, he lowered down, knees bent in a slight crouch as he folded his arms atop Kuval’s raised knees rather than his own. His head tilted to the side as his eyes made the slow climb back up his frame to meet those of the other man’s.

When their eyes met, Kuval could almost read the irritation there. It’s something that would have pushed him away, were it not for the actions that followed. The expression shift reached him first, with the slow smirk enticing him. He wasn’t sure at first what to think of it, after all it could mean many things, but no matter the meaning the Syreni felt the affects of it instantly.

Neither looked away and, truth be told, Kuval wasn’t quite sure he could. He watched as the man moved toward him, in smooth and undeniably confident strides. This wasn’t new to him, that much was clear, and somehow that knowledge only excited the former more.

Kuval slowly tilted his head as the man approached until finally he found himself feeling small pressed back against the door, looking up at him. He swallowed hard before his lips parted, but no words came from them. As the witch’s gaze moved down it seemed like the creatures whole body was trying to respond to the trail. His breathing deepened first, chest rising and falling in building anticipation.

A pull to men. Human sexuality wasn’t something he’d ever felt comfortable asking strangers about, the one taboo he’d found in his otherwise over curious mind. All he could do was nod to that implication as the man lowered down.

The touch on his knees felt electric. Lingering water left the witch’s arms and trailed down Kuval’s legs, connecting them again in more ways than one. Always with the water, he thought weakly to himself as their eyes found each other again.

Capping off the canteen, Kuval lowered it down into his lap. The warmth within him only grew worse, focusing itself in that betrayal between his legs that was far beyond denial at this point and try as he might this one bottle didn’t do much to hide the fact.

“What of it…?” He managed, but his tone left much to be desired in the way of confidence. It wasn’t common for him to have this sort of reaction where others could see and, though he knew how to fix the problem, it didn’t seem the time or place to take care of such a thing. “Should I excuse myself?”

Even with no paranormal senses he could read the build on his face. The anticipation was palpable between them, yet he kept this too casual rest against his knees. His own heart started to shift in its pace, growing slower but stronger when he realized that he wasn’t going to push his arms away. In fact, this man he’d just witnessed slaughter three capable men with unexpected ease, appeared so much smaller now. His eyebrows barely rose as he listened, and he met his words with a low chuckle as he moved just one hand to grip the canteen in his lap,

“Excuse yourself. Why?” He shifted it from where it was obviously hiding him, and rested it down on the floor against the door. So too did he rest that hand against the wooden planks, keeping this too comfortable lean towards him as he stared: his own eyes perfectly content with how the situation was going. “When it comes to carnal impulses I’m likely to be at the bottom of the list when it comes to people that give a damn…” Which was true, he’d had so many varied lovers that he couldn’t remember which had heart beats and which didn’t. Not that he’d bring that up. Judgment was not something that ever entered the bedroom with him after that metaphorical door was closed.

“Women are soft and vulnerable, enjoyable in their own ways but men…” The smirk shifted as his other hand slid down his knee, along his thigh and to his hip, “Men, well we know exactly how to handle one another don’t we? The spectrum of pleasure is much more widened…” His fingers moved along the cut of his hip, dipping into that warm flesh at the crook of his thigh. It was here, now, touching him like this, that he could see how defined his muscles were; how much strength he had. Strength that he knew he’d one day try to take from him, but not today. Today it would benefit him to let him keep it.

The tips of his fingers barely curled against the floor, but he was quick to ease them. His own anticipation was building, and with the added adrenaline from near death as well as the unmatched feeling of having one’s life restored, it was all he could do to keep from ripping him down to the floor. This was a man he’d yet to be with though, one that he could not predict the actions of, one that had the effortless ability to do him some real harm, especially with no magick to defend himself. Best to keep it slow. His hand moved up the crook of his thigh, fingers just barely tracing over until he finally felt him. As he did so, he felt pressure between his own legs, and drifted his fingers up to feel the full length he had to offer,

“No…” His head slowly tilted to the other side, eyes moving from his to trace the outline of his jaw, “Do not excuse yourself.”

The beat of his heart pounded on inside Kuval’s chest as the canteen was removed and though it had only been there a minute, he was suddenly incredibly aware of the exposed feeling in its absence. He shifted slightly against the floor, ever careful not to move the man before him, and wondered what he was supposed to do with his hands. Was he supposed to touch? Keep them away? They clenched and unclenched before finding their way to the hard floor on their side of his hips.

“Y-Yeah…?” He managed in response to Dorian’s reassurance. It eased him to know that he didn’t mind and, intrigued as he was by the differences the other provided between experiences between pleasure with men and women, Kuval found it ridiculously difficult to form words. Or to care in this moment, if he was honest with himself.

His mind was on the closeness of the witch, the trail of his fingers. With the trace in the crook of his thigh that leg slowly stretched out, careful not to jostle or bump him lest the whole experience come to a painful halt. Still the fingers moved on, closer and closer to that radiating heat. The tension was building, a band being pulled taught within him, urging his body to roll and his hips to rise.

And then those fingers were upon him, slipping up his length delicately. Painfully slowly. Kuval’s head fell back against the door in response, unable to keep himself as solid as he wanted to be and yet, in the same respect, his body refused to release the tension from his muscles.

He wanted to do more. So much more. It came on quickly and now refused to release him. In an attempt to find stability he pulled a hand from the door and found himself gripping Dorian’s wrist as he, too, pressed against the floor.

“I don’t…” The words failed him again. Had he been able to complete a thought, he would have told the man that he wasn’t sure exactly what to do. He hadn’t done this with another yet. In fact, aside from general logic, he was completely lost on what you should and shouldn’t do. All he knew was that he wanted to do something. Urgently needed to do something…!