@companypride
Jack stares into the bathroom mirror, rubbing lavender scented moisturizer into his face with quick, circular, motions. He spends extra time along the edges of the scar emblazoned across his face, though the scar itself is a lost cause. The skin along the edges is rough and raised, the vault symbol itself burned deep into his flesh and solidified into a metallic silver crust. It's not skin anymore; part of why it can't be repaired. His face belongs in a fucking museum- as far as his doctors can tell, nothing else like it exists.
Rhys is still in his bed, presumably. The front door won't unlock without his biometrics. It's the first time Rhys has been in his bed, though not the first time they've had sex. Usually it's in an office, either Rhys's or his own. Usually it's quick, informal. But, eating a home cooked meal alone under a enormous elaborate chandelier at an enormous expensive dinner table was feeling particularly pathetic now that the adrenaline rush of having a real flesh and blood body again was beginning to grow old. He'd bet Rhys's life on the assumption that Rhys hadn't eaten anything in days that hadn't come out of an Atlas vending machine. So, he called him up. One thing led to another.
And now he has a decision to make; leave the mask off, or put it back on. It's really not much of a decision. Sleeping with it on would be worse. Discomfort aside, refusing to be seen with it off in his own turbomansion would only highlight the fact that he's insecure. It's better to own it. He never wore the mask in the evenings with Nisha. But, Nisha was there. Nisha knew what had happened and knew to never say a word about it. Rhys is different.
When he enters the bedroom, he has only a plush, dark grey, towel around his waist. His hair is only wet around the edges; he didn't wash it, but he wasn't able to fully avoid it while washing his face in the shower.
He strips the towel off in front of his closet, making sure Rhys gets a good view of his perfectly sculpted ass. Any excuse to show off. He pulls on a pair of super soft boxer briefs, black with yellow details, and hangs the towel on a nearby hook. Then he flops down on the bed beside Rhys, giving him a grin and a flirty inflection of his voice. "Hey."
