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[beshackled]

This is Erichthonios. Apologies for not being available at the moment. Pray leave a message, and I shall respond to your communication as soon as I receive it.

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[beshackled]

[Shuddering breaths fill the air. The tremors in Erichthonios' body have yet to fully subside, dark limbs trembling with each aftershock running like currents along his veins. Slowly, his eyes are able to focus again, and the first thing he sees is him, damp hair mussed and bright lips plump from the fervor with which they had been kissed.

His heart swells in awe of the beauty of him; beautiful, even though he is in disarray, even though he looks exhausted, even though his front has all but been painted with Erichthonios' own release.]

I-I...

[He swallows. His throat feels raw. As though a dream, both distant and close at once, he remembers the reason why; remembers the unbridled cries that fell from his lips in the midst of their passion, words of affirmation and Themis' name over and over again. He'd screamed when he hit his climax, clutching his lover to him tightly as his partner rutted into him with a fervor he had never witnessed before.

He can feel his aether inside of him, a corporeal essence yet unabsorbed, and in his heart resolves to make it a part of him.]

I... think so...

[Tentatively, he loosens his legs, slowly sliding them down the length of Themis' arms, one descending before the other until his toes touch against the floor.]

Truly, your strength is... remarkable.

[heartofsalvation]

[Themis has to laugh a little at his marveling.] It... wasn't easy.

[Steadying him after his feet touch the tile again, he slowly eases off and away from Erichthonios, noting the mess on both their front sides. Perhaps it's a good thing they did this before actually cleaning up in the shower rather than after... it certainly beats having to do it twice.

Slicking wet bangs back again, he exhales deeply, then smiles at him, reaching for the shampoo.]

Come, I'll wash your hair. The water's like to turn cold if we take too long.

[beshackled]

[Though his steps are shaky, Erichthonios eagerly draws forward and into the water, nuzzling the top of Themis' head affectionately whence their bodies meet once more.]

Pray allow me to wash yours, too.