"This is what I want to do," Barnaby says, realizing a second too late that his understanding of what he says is, really, as simplistic as the sound of the voice in which he says it. Maybe this is something that ought to be a little less simple. Maybe Kotetsu has a point. He probably knows what he's talking about -- more than Barnaby.

He leans in for another kiss, softer and more searching than the last, like a question, before giving Kotetsu a long look from a pair of thoughtful eyes.

He leans away, stretching across the bed with a long torso and long arms to barely reach the drawer of the bedside table, pulling out a small white bottle of hand lotion. He's glad, for once, that he chose to get a perfunctory, unscented bottle.

"Receive you," Barnaby teases, without heat or nastiness. "Are you sure we have hours? Won't you be worn out before then? I guess I can wait. Patience is a virtue."