[Look. A scar of a gaping hole through Emet-Selch’s stomach is not only unattractive, but has a lot of baggage that he has been flat out avoiding.

Thumbing along the curve of his collarbone before continuing to unbutton his shirt. About halfway down he will give the material a sharp tug to get at least some of it untucked from the waistband of his pants.

Going along with the deepening of the kiss trying to taste the hint of decay. Not quite sure if he likes it or not, but it is novel. He will have to admit that.]