[The reassurance settles like cool water in cupped hands, and he curls closer once the towel is gone, nosing at Cy's chin, reveling in the scrape of stubble and familiar hard line of the man's jaw — an affectionate, cat-like rub of contact.]

Okay.

[To all of it: Cy's reinforcement of care, and the instructions of preparation for later tonight. Excitement is difficult to tamp down in the moment, gathering instead deep in his belly as he dispels the jutsu with a quick, easy hand signal between them, that form gone in a sudden blink with his own to replace it. There is really not much difference, lines angular where curves once sloped, chest flat and toned, waist trimly narrow.]

I didn't think about that. Maybe you know me, or at least you've seen me, but we haven't fucked before. [He shifts on the bed, drawn a little further into the fantasy.] I wouldn't let you, so you have to take it.