The towel was caught easily, a sigh of mixed relief and discomfort able to be as the warm dampness ran over the bruise of his eye and washed away the dried blood on his mouth. He also ran it over the back of his neck, closing both his eyes and taking a moment to focus on his breathing.
He was fine. He was safe. He was going to get to drink and relax and spend time with Willow here in the other's room, where he didn't have to worry about anything for a while and could let himself appreciate music and art and the way he and the blonde shared a frequency that made his heart thrum in tune with the other's music.
Everything outside could wait. He could shove it aside, could keep it from becoming the other's problem.
Dark eyes watched as Willow moved around the room, observing the other man's movements. He listened to the sounds as the drinks were mixed, tucking one arm behind his head as he did so.
Confusion crossed Conrad's face, as Willow paused to turn and look at him. His own eyes widened just a bit, soft red coloring his cheeks and ears as he clearly saw the way Willow looked him over. Like he was something the other wanted to devour.
And even in his current state, where his ribs ached and it hurt to smile too widely, it still made something simultaneously shy and hungry spread down through him. And though he let out a huff and looked away, he couldn't hide how obviously pleased he was by Willow's words and gaze.
It was pathetic, how being wanted by Willow could make him feel such elation. And knowing the other still did so even when he felt he was so far from his peak definitely added a new layer of soft warmth to the feeling, one that squeezed his heart in a way less painful and more tender.
"So you will show me how much once I'm healed up more, right? Because that's what I'm getting from this, and I really hope I'm not wrong." Conrad said, voice playful but holding a soft yet very real note of want.
He couldn't help it- he remembered the bruises the other left peppered on his thighs. How when he'd been awoken at night in the days following, either from the whispers that plagued him or the need to see the other despite knowing he couldn't or shouldn't sneak out at such an hour, he'd pressed his fingers into them. Just hard enough to sting, just enough to bring back how he got them. Enough so that, if he squeezed his eyes shut and focused with all his might, he could put himself back into the moment. And he could swap the terror for a sense of rush and lust and something that was deeper and scarier but also worth chasing like the best of highs.
It had only confirmed Conrad's own long held understanding of his masochism. It was just heightened with Willow, as so many things were.
Taking the cup from the blonde, Conrad moved to sit a bit closer to Willow at the edge of the bed. He took a large sip of his own drink, letting out a hum of satisfaction before smiling at Willow, eyes openly impressed.
"You weren't lying about the mule, this is really fucking good." Conrad complimented, taking another drink as he heard the other speak again.
"You're too damn enticing for your own good, my artist."
He felt the heat return to his face, but he just let out a soft laugh. He scooted even closer, his knee touching Willows.
"I feel like I should be the one saying that to you. I mean, even when I'm not here, you're still in my head. Like a song I can't stop hearing." Conrad said, internally cringing at how his words sounded.
'Way to sound like an obsessive fucking sap, Michelson.'
