[Unless Absinthe actually brings notice to the scar by word or touch, Emet-Selch will be otherwise occupied. And when their faces aren't glued together he'll get a good view of what happens at least a hundred years of painstakingly cultivated light one shots one's final form through the abdomen. At least it is scarred flesh and not a gaping hole.

At the scrape of nail, he will break the kiss panting. He brushes his lips against his cheek giving Absinthe's cock a firm pull and twist of his wrist before pulling away.

First, things, first.

He leans up to get at the bedside table and tosses the lube he finds in there at his partner.]