How is he supposed to focus on anything but Rook's fingers brushing over him? The water is warm, Rook is warm, but his fingertips might as well be on fire with how intense even such a light touch feels.

It's sudden--until barely any time ago, he'd considered them as nothing but friends. That the way he occasionally found himself wanting to reach out to touch his cheek or hair was dangerously inappropriate and selfish. Yet now as he carefully rakes a claw along the shape of Rook in his jeans he finds a combination of want and hesitation. Something like this would be fine, right? Until they--well, he--had more time to come to terms with what he might actually want. Even if there's nothing more that he wants in this moment than Rook to stay by his side, he doesn't want to rush because of something as base as instinct.

He squeezes Rook's arousal tight, offering a nip against the hunter's jaw. "Nothing inside of either of us."