[Dito is by no means a prude. After so much time spent being Five's toy, his approach to sex was almost perfunctory in its nonchalance-- it felt good, it passed the time, and both parties generally got something out of it. He was no more squeamish at the sight of nudity than he was at the sight of blood and gore, considering how many men and women Five chose to take to her bed... and how often she made him watch. But he was still expecting a separate changing room or something, and so it comes as a bit of a surprise when Dirk just... disrobes. Right in front of him. And looking at the man as he slips off the robe and sinks into the water, Dito curses himself for agreeing to share a room with this guy.
He's not as thick as Decadus was, or as muscular as Cent. His body has a sleek, wiry look to it, like the bodies of the wolves Dito sometimes encountered in the Land of Mountains. Like the athletic figures of the dancers Five occasionally called to entertain her. He moves like he's confident in his own skin, like he knows exactly how to manipulate his body in order to immediately catch people's eye.
Jackass. Asshole. Fucking attention whore.
Were it not for the inviting heat rising off of the water, Dito would probably make an excuse to leave, to come back at another time when he can be all alone and away from Dirk's discerning eyes. But the thought of trekking back through the blistering cold is even more distasteful than undressing in front of this guy. Dito removes his coat first, tossing it on a chair in the corner of the room. The shirt follows suit, as do the pants and undergarments. His body is slender and lithe, not nearly as defined as Dirk's is, and if Dirk is even the slightest bit perceptive it's obvious he's self-conscious about it.
Quickly, with the air of someone trying a little too hard to come across as uncaring, Dito strides over and finds a spot across from Dirk. The blissful warmth of the water overtakes him as soon as he sits down, and another moan escapes his lips before he can stop himself.]
(Dirk is, unsurprisingly, oblivious to what the hell is going on. His body is tightly chorded with muscle, with pronounced scars over his biceps, chest, and back, but one in particular sticks out around his neck. The scars are raised, pale white against his skin, disturbing an otherwise consistent pattern of freckles. He is effortless in the way he lounges back, arms resting on the edge and head tipped to stretch the muscles in his neck.
He doesn't watch Dito change. Mostly out of respect. Ironically, if Dito were a woman, he probably would have been less concerned with avoiding looking, mostly because of his natural indifference towards their bodies. But Dito's a guy and...Well. You know. Dirk's into that and he feels a bit like a perv looking at some guy's body without their permission. So his eyes are actually shut behind his shades when Dito disrobes, as interested as he kind of honestly was, but he's behaving.
He finally does look though when there's the sound of water and then Dito's relief. Dirk looks over at him, instantly grinning.)
Maybe later, sweetheart. I'm trying to relax right now. (God he really is insufferable, isn't he. He is glad that Dito likes it though. Well worth the trip and the sort of bitching along the way. His eyes glance quickly over what he can see of Dito, but he's just as quick to look away. Look at Dito's face. Man, he's so good at this.)
[Fortunately, all of Dito's discomfort and insecurities had immediately scurried back into the recesses of his mind the second he stuck one foot into the glorious hot spring. He is loose, looser than he's been in a while, and it shows in the blissful relaxation of his face. Dito sinks further into that intoxicating heat up to his shoulders, his long bangs hanging in his face as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes.
A soft, pleasurable sound that might have started out as words pulses in his throat. His second try is more articulate, though the slightly slurred speech and the dopey drunken smile on his face might tell Dirk more than anything Dito could possibly say.]
Gonna have to trek back to Trench on your own, pal. I don't care if I turn into a boiled prune-- I am never leaving this place.
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(cw: vague mention of sexual abuse)
He's not as thick as Decadus was, or as muscular as Cent. His body has a sleek, wiry look to it, like the bodies of the wolves Dito sometimes encountered in the Land of Mountains. Like the athletic figures of the dancers Five occasionally called to entertain her. He moves like he's confident in his own skin, like he knows exactly how to manipulate his body in order to immediately catch people's eye.
Jackass. Asshole. Fucking attention whore.
Were it not for the inviting heat rising off of the water, Dito would probably make an excuse to leave, to come back at another time when he can be all alone and away from Dirk's discerning eyes. But the thought of trekking back through the blistering cold is even more distasteful than undressing in front of this guy. Dito removes his coat first, tossing it on a chair in the corner of the room. The shirt follows suit, as do the pants and undergarments. His body is slender and lithe, not nearly as defined as Dirk's is, and if Dirk is even the slightest bit perceptive it's obvious he's self-conscious about it.
Quickly, with the air of someone trying a little too hard to come across as uncaring, Dito strides over and finds a spot across from Dirk. The blissful warmth of the water overtakes him as soon as he sits down, and another moan escapes his lips before he can stop himself.]
Ohhh fuck me--
(cw: references to suicide via decapitation
He doesn't watch Dito change. Mostly out of respect. Ironically, if Dito were a woman, he probably would have been less concerned with avoiding looking, mostly because of his natural indifference towards their bodies. But Dito's a guy and...Well. You know. Dirk's into that and he feels a bit like a perv looking at some guy's body without their permission. So his eyes are actually shut behind his shades when Dito disrobes, as interested as he kind of honestly was, but he's behaving.
He finally does look though when there's the sound of water and then Dito's relief. Dirk looks over at him, instantly grinning.)
Maybe later, sweetheart. I'm trying to relax right now. (God he really is insufferable, isn't he. He is glad that Dito likes it though. Well worth the trip and the sort of bitching along the way. His eyes glance quickly over what he can see of Dito, but he's just as quick to look away. Look at Dito's face. Man, he's so good at this.)
Absolutely worth it, right?
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A soft, pleasurable sound that might have started out as words pulses in his throat. His second try is more articulate, though the slightly slurred speech and the dopey drunken smile on his face might tell Dirk more than anything Dito could possibly say.]
Gonna have to trek back to Trench on your own, pal. I don't care if I turn into a boiled prune-- I am never leaving this place.