Even though Drake pulled away, it was too late. Ryah's eyes slid shut and he bit down on a knuckle to muffle his gasp, even as he came. Spurt after spurt of come jetted onto his skin, a quiet, strangled curse falling from his lips. It had been a while since anyone had touched him, since he had come at the hands of another person. The fact that it had been someone male made no difference to his body, the pleasure cascading over him.<br/><br/>Normally, a release would have left him boneless and ready to fall asleep, but instead, the brunet found himself tense as a bungee cord about to snap back. As his breathing and heartrate slowly settled, he found himself staring sightlessly at the ceiling, his mind in a chaotic shamble.<br/><br/>After what felt like hours, he rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. The sound of hot water could be heard, drowning out the sounds of anything else. Ryah leaned his forehead against the cold tiles, focusing on his breathing. It was a bodily reaction, he told himself. It had been so long, of course any hot mouth could have gotten him off. That didn't mean he was gay. Fuck no.<br/><br/>When he finally emerged, his face was stoic and unreadable. He gathered up his things, deliberately not looking at Drake. "Thanks for, ah, yesterday. With the coven, and all," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I should head out. Get out of your way."