[Tav coos softly, finding that he really likes that slow friction, slow rush of heat up through his abdomen; the soft sound turns into a raspy inhale at the hand on his horn; the same reaction as before to the slipperywetslide of skin and water. He takes his mouth from Dave's at last, gasping for air, eyes closed against the rush of water from above, and he buries his face against the wet skin of Dave's shoulder, laying soft, warm, wet kisses there and up the side of his neck. His lips graze the fresh hate-wound, and he whimpers softly, tongue swiping over the spot gently.]
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