Aok wanted to go to him.
Wanted to push that flimsy screen aside and kneel beside the tub, take the cloth from Kui's hand and finish washing him himself.
Wanted to feel that wet, warm skin under his palms, wanted to trace the path of every droplet with his tongue.
He could feel his pulse there, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, insistent and demanding.
Aok's hand moved to the ties of his trousers with a mind of its own, fingers clumsy with urgency.
He loosened the knot with a rough jerk, the fabric sagging open to relieve some of the pressure, but not enough—never enough.
He pushed the waistband down past his hips, letting his erection spring free, heavy and aching against his stomach.
It twitched in the cool air of the room, weeping at the tip, desperate for friction.
He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the sharp pain grounding him, keeping the groan trapped in his throat.
The metallic taste of blood lingered as his teeth sank deeper, but he didn't care.
