"it's all just drag, baby boy, remember?" speaks with confidence, no hesitation in his voice. he knows this part without any doubt. hansol is his boyfriend, the purveyor of his own destiny, and he will be damned if he sits on the sidelines as he watches dysphoria rip him to shreds like this. "when we get to my hotel room we'll use that really nice big tub, clean everything off, and you'll feel like you again, okay?" will wait until later to inquire on how long until the other's next performance was. because he does know how to take extensions out. but doesn't want to do that just to have to put them all back in tomorrow morning (or, more likely, pay someone to put them back in). "good boy, sol. that's right." coos out the praise as they follow his directive, the hand with the seam ripper slipping between hansol's fists before working on the fabric. "i love you." not quite made to do just this, it takes some work to initially fray the spanx. but when it does, the elastic at the top gives way just enough for him push the small safety blade through the rest of the garment--- hand slipping under his pants as it follows down sol's mid-thigh. splits the one side apart completely before pulling his hand back and putting the tool back in the small case in his pocket. "feel any better?" sinclair murmurs as his hand slides down his boyfriend's body once more, this time able to fold back the concealing undergarment halfway across his lower half... good enough for what they would do in the car. "fuck, sol." a sharp intake at the sight of his tdick, even now, still mainly flaccid, is something that causes a pleasure to run through sinclair's body. to start, he acts as if he wants everything at the same time, his entire hand running over hansol's mound. flat hand running back and forth against his folds & exposed t-dick. "i've missed this, missed you, my love."
