[Taryon turns around to find...well, it's rather difficult to sensually wash oneself while being thorough, but Dorian is still right there, minutes away from sex. Taryon stands, pours oil over his hand, sets the vial on a stool, and leans against a wall, using his clean hand to support himself. He spreads his legs and bends forward until his head rests on the wall, then dips two fingers into himself.
A sigh escapes his lips. The cool oil comes as a relief, but stretching himself not enough.]
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A sigh escapes his lips. The cool oil comes as a relief, but stretching himself not enough.]