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+---- Thread: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn (/showthread.php?tid=11928)
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-30-2025
Even as her nerves spark and flinch beneath the soft licks of his tongue, Flora doesn’t pull away. She leans into the unbearable sweetness of it, hips twitching, thighs fluttering with sensitivity, her breath catching each time he brushes a place still singing from the storm he stirred. It’s almost too much, but almost isn’t enough, and Flora is starting to realize that this might be a pattern when it comes to Kaisel.
When he finally relents, mouth slipping from her like a benediction, her gaze finds his, wet lashes, flushed cheeks, chest heaving like her lungs have only just remembered how to work. But as he lifts her, settling her back down into the warmth of his lap, the ache twists immediately into something sharp and ravenous again. Her arms circle his neck, fingers threading into the damp, tangled mess of his hair as her hips roll forward. The contact makes her whimper; gods he feels like fire beneath soaked, rough fabric, every inch of him straining and hot and so close. The friction alone is enough to make her shiver again, especially with how open and slick she is against him, the brush of his pants like burlap across tender skin.
Leaning forward to kiss him, she tastes herself on his mouth and doesn’t hesitate; tongue tracing filth and poetry into his own, threatening ruin or begging for more, she can’t tell which. Maybe both. Her fingers slide to his jaw, angling him deeper into it, devouring and giving in the same breath until air becomes a desperate necessity. When she pulls back it’s only because she has to, her breath hitching in his mouth as her hips press down again with sinful intent. [say]"Show me, then,"[/say] she whispers, a glint of mischief in her eyes that can’t quite hide the softness underneath.
She loves this. Loves the weight of his hands still reverent on her hips, the thick ache of him poised between them, the way he looks at her like she’s everything he’s ever wanted while still asking for more. Perched like this in his lap, held and wanted and seen, she’d give him anything he asked—everything, maybe—if he’d just keep looking at her like that.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-30-2025
Already fighting against the cruel containment of his pants, it's a wonder the hard tip of his dick doesn't cleave right through the fabric the instant he takes her weight and she grinds into him. Instead, desire hisses through his teeth, as though bearing these pants is the greatest agony he's had to endure. [say]"I should have followed your rules,"[/say] he laments, words half broken with an erratic grasp on breath.
Any thought of further words withers instantly beneath her lips, needing every bit of air he's got to meet her and survive it. The taste of her still on his mouth, the way she pours every bit of herself into the contact and drags each part of him out with, exchanging souls instead of passion—it yanks the last threads of control from his body. He sighs into her, rough and guttural, hands clamping around her hips as she presses herself onto him further, a shudder of anticipation rolling through him.
Her whisper is the last snip on his control. Near mad, his hands hoist her closer to his chest and he reaches back to fumble with his belt buckle and buttons behind her. It’s clumsy and frantic, the soaked fabric and continuous water offering no assistance to his plight, but he needs her bare against him, now. The pants split around the zipper track and his cock springs free, thick and aching, chasing the wet invitation of her that'd just been so near.
He doesn’t wait—he can’t. His palms press back on her, guiding her down onto him, filling her slow enough to savor the stretch but urgent enough to tremble with the restraint. The sensation rips a moan from his throat, head falling back, [say]"Fuck—Flora."[/say] He drags his gaze to hers again, barely able to see her as he loses himself to the feel of her perfectly taking him. His hands cradle her, holding her tight as if she might vanish, and he thrusts up into her with a shuddering groan.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-30-2025
Her laugh spills out light and breathless, trembling with aftershock and arousal both, a flutter of sound that feels like it could break apart at any second. [say]"Next time,"[/say] she pants, voice husky as her fingers brush damp curls from her cheek, [say]"you can try it my way."[/say]
His sigh ghosts against her, hot and rough and edged with hunger, and it lights something raw inside her. She feels it flare behind her ribs, down her spine, pooling molten at the base of her belly. For one wild moment she considers calling on Frey, just a flick of her will and the last obstacle of his clothing would be gone—but then he’s fumbling, frantic and cursing, and there’s something delicious in letting it be this, in feeling him this desperate and undone just to get to her. So she lifts up onto her knees, easing the way, hands cradling his cheeks as her mouth hovers near his ear.
[say]"I want you,"[/say] she whispers, and this time there’s no ache beneath it. No plea for permanence, no desperate wish for something soft. Just need. Just now. She wants him to fall apart around her name, to forget any version of her that wasn’t carved into his hips, to feel her as she’d felt him; shattered and slick with it.
The moment his cock springs free, thick and flushed, Flora’s hips are already sinking. The stretch burns perfect, her whole body tightening as she guides him into her, inch by inch, swallowing him with a moan that tangles in her throat. Gods, he’s deep—so deep—and with the clinging heat of water and the wet of her, he slides in like her body was made for this. For him.
The fabric still binding his legs forces her to take control, and gods does she love it. With her thighs trembling, she presses herself down again, her muscles clenching around him as he thrusts up into her. The sound she makes is somewhere between a whimper and a curse, one arm coiling tight around his shoulder while her other hand finds his and places it over her breast, letting him feel every flutter of her racing heart, every shift of her breath as it hiccups in time with her movements.
Slow at first, Flora draws herself up only to sink again, deeper, harder, again and again until the wet slap of their bodies is lost in steam and sighs. Her head tips forward, golden curls spilling water, eyes half-lidded but locked on him. She braces herself against him, her lips parted as she pants, her whole body caught in the rhythm of pleasure and power, and the adoration flooding her chest is almost too much to bear. [say]"Fuck,"[/say] she gasps, breath snagging, hips grinding down harder. [say]"You feel so—"[/say] But the words dissolve into another moan, her nails curling into his shoulder as her rhythm stutters with need.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-30-2025
I want you, must be the hottest thing to exist for the way he's instantly melting into the clasp of her hands, reduced to a liquid state momentarily. That's all she has to say, then everything she could ever want that he has the ability to give, it'd be hers. She wants him. Him. This isn't some moon-touched dream either, this is real. He tilts his head, leaning into the comfort of her palm for a moment, before the urgency to give her what they both want reignites the frantic dismantling of lingering barriers.
The way she meets him, not even waiting, just as in need of this as he is, nearly undoes him on the spot. His jaw tightens against the threat of it, his inhale sharp and stuttering as she sinks onto him and presses down deep. Every part of him feels drenched in fire, alive and aware in a way that he feels along the length of his spine. As he grabs her gaze, wreathed with her own heat, golden curls dripping, lips parting around a moan—he swears he's never seen anything more lovely.
His grip on her hips is his only handhold on sanity still, keeping him here as she builds a rhythm that drags him further over the edge. His hand sprawls over her breast where she's placed it, head tipping forward into the cradle of her chest like maybe he'd find salvation there. As fingers tease at her nipple, rolling and pinching, his mouth claims the other one, soaring it only when a groan splits the space. His other hand drifts up her back, tracing the gorgeous arch of it.
An agreeing hum vibrates against her tit as her words are wrecked by a moan, a similar one growling free from him as she seats herself back down the length of him. The tight clench of her, the silken heat that rises and falls against him, every pass sends a tremor tearing through his whole body. [say]"Flora,"[/say] he rasps with a hot pop off her nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive skin near it as he fights for purchase amid the shudder rolling through him. [say]"I can't—you're too fucking tight and perfect."[/say] The bite of her nails holds him a bit longer, but he's unspooling rapidly with every slap of her thighs on his.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-30-2025
Flora's fingers find their way between her thighs, the first brush of which against her clit has her flinching, breath stalling as the sensitivity threatens to knock the wind out of her. But gods, she chases it anyway. The rhythm of her heart and hips has already begun to thread itself tight, and now with each teasing circle of her fingertips, a pulse builds to match it—shallow, sharp, nearly unbearable in how good it is.
And then his mouth is on her breast, tongue and teeth and hands playing her like a prayer made flesh, and Flora gasps—no, moans—a sound that’s half dragged from her lungs and half worship hurled into the steam. Her hand tangles into his hair before she even realises it’s moved. She pulls, not hard but commanding, tipping his gaze to meet hers, gold and fire and water and want all wrapped in the curve of her smile. [say]"Don’t you dare,"[/say] she whispers, breath ghosting over his lips before her brow leans against his, [say]"If you finish before me, you won’t get to hear me moan your name again."[/say] It’s a promise, a curse, a gift; and she means every word of it.
This is only the second time they've been together like this—gods, only the second—and already she feels the threat of addiction curling around her spine. But because this is only the second time, and because of not just the physical but emotional build up Kaisel has had to endure, Flora doesn’t continue to bounce; doesn’t rise and fall like some desperate thing. Instead, she grinds, slick and slow, setting the pace with each smooth roll of her hips that keeps him deep, so deep, and shifting just enough to keep her riding the edge without tipping him over too fast.
Her hand is steady between her thighs, coaxing herself toward the inevitable, and when the lightning begins to gather again—static behind her teeth, needles in her thighs—she leans in close enough that her nose brushes his. [say]"I love fucking you,"[/say] she breathes, the words hot as her hips pick up pace. [say]"Gods, I love—"[/say] The moan that breaks out of her is desperate and guttural, rising as her fingers find just the right rhythm and her body begins to tremble. [say]"Gods Kai,"[/say] she whispers, voice a tremor through the steam, [say]"nn, I want to make you cum."[/say]
And then it hits. The second climax crashes through her like surf on reef, sharp and wet and unrelenting. Her fingers seize in his hair as her thighs tighten around him, her hips grinding down like she could pull the soul from his body with the force of it.
[say]"Fuck—Kaisel!"[/say] she cries, her whole body a trembling storm as she breaks over him again and again, her thighs slapping against his in a rhythm as torrential as the water still falling around them. She’s flushed and shuddering and riding him like she means to replace his every memory with this, and her, and the sound of his name from her lips like worship and ruin all at once.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-31-2025
His eyes lock on her, a desperate thing that reaches out as she tilts him back to her. He shivers beneath her warning and the movement of it over his skin, the breath nearly tangible as it weaves through the humidity of the shower's building steam. A groan parts from him before his teeth clench down around it, but this one isn't torn from the heat of her incredible thighs, rather the torment of resisting them. Lash him to the mast, the siren call of her body, her touch, it's impossible to ignore. If her pleasure is what's at stake though, if the music of her moans is the cost, then he’ll willingly go blind in the salt spray and split on the rocks is that's what it'll take.
The change of her pattern and pace is certainly a rope being tossed out to him, one that winds against his chest. He's already half over though, so each roll of her hips dragging against him is still a spark that threatens to burn right through the braided fibers and set him free. Each time he drags it back, fans it away, tries to hold through it. He can't watch the way his cock is consumed by her or how she plays herself into release. Instead he focuses on the sway of her tits, grabbing each in hand like an anchor, tweaking her nipples as he clings to her gaze, to the broken lines splitting her lips. Fuck, every part of her sets him alight. [say]"You are so unbelievably hot,"[/say] he drags the mangled words out from his lungs, raw and clipped as each grind races to the soles of his feet.
She must think him a stronger man, the way she leans against him, each word exhaled a potential powder keg being set to his blaze. [say]"Flora,"[/say] he rasps in caution, hands rising to cup either side of her head, fingers spilling into her soaked, golden crown. He's hanging on by a thread, all his ties frayed to the friction. [say]"Gods—[i]gods[/i]—Ro,"[/say] His grip tightens as he fists her hair, voice a ragged pant of survival through the storm of her.
He can't manage as she tightens, each wave of her orgasm stroking against him like it's deliberate. Fire splits him open from chest to heel. [say]"I ca—Flora I'm."[/say] His voice is swallowed as every muscle strains against her. His hands slam down to her hips, bracketing her in iron as he drags her as deep as possible, driving up into her with a thrust and a wild, senseless sound. His cock pulsing heat into her as he unravels, hips jerking occasionally, her name tumbling free like a feverish chant, nonsensical with it's repetition. His fingers splay against her curves until the last shudder rolls free. Then he collapses back against the floor, trembling wreckage beneath the downpour of the shower, her name still slipping broken from his lips like delerium.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-31-2025
The moment Kaisel gives in, when every tense, coiled muscle in his body breaks beneath hers and he drives up into her with that raw, unguarded sound, Flora comes undone all over again; not from her own climax this time, but from his. The pulse of him, the wild chant of her name spilling past his lips like it’s the only word he knows—gods, it wrecks her in the most delicious way. Her body’s still trembling from the last orgasm, and the fresh flood of heat inside her, draws out the ache in her thighs and the throb still living beneath her ribs like an echo.
The second Kaisel collapses back against the slick tile, Flora folds forward like the wave she is, liquid and glowing and entirely spent. She sprawls herself over him, breasts to chest, cheek to shoulder, her body draped against his like some sated jungle cat lounging in the sun. Only it’s rain pouring over them now, hot and relentless, soaking every golden curl to her scalp and dripping down her back in rivulets.
Her lips wander lazily over him, kisses like droplets along his collarbone, up the column of his throat, over the sharp cut of his jaw; her tongue a teasing afterthought here and there as if she isn’t quite ready to stop devouring him. But eventually, the weight of him beneath her and the lingering tremble in her limbs drags her still. She lets herself settle against him with a satisfied exhale, her head tucked beneath his chin, arms loosely wound around his middle.
Then—laughter. Soft at first, breathless and delighted, tumbling from her mouth like it can’t be helped. Because gods, really, what the fuck? [say]"I can’t believe we just did that,"[/say] she pants into the soaked curve of his neck, the words vibrating against his pulse with amusement and disbelief both. Her nose nuzzles at his jawline, affection layered in every brush of skin. [say]"Or that you’re still wearing pants."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 09-01-2025
His arms curl around her back as she joins him flat, fingertips sketching out designs of adoration along every slope and curve he can reach. Light skims here, deeper rolls there, trailing absently up and down the path between her shoulder and the rounding of her ass. Beneath, he's grinning like a fool for every sweep of her lips, the touch like breath over cooling embers that flare bright but have nothing to burn.
As she comes to rest at his shoulder, his movements slow, until just his thumb is lightly dragging against her, and then eventually even that quiets as he just holds her. A contented sigh releases, and it's possible he'd have fallen asleep then and there if not for the interrupting spray of the shower against his face. Then, the sound of her laughter, his own rising to meet it before he even knows why. It's a gentle, hushed sort of laughter, broken frequently by breath, too overladen with joy not to join her in its expression.
He tilts his head, one eye parting to find her, smile stretching in response to her disbelief and doubling for his pants. [say]"I can't believe every time I'm with you my fit is a problem,"[/say] having reclaimed his vocabulary, he laughs richer. [say]"Just going to wear those rip-away clothes from now on, solve everything."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 09-01-2025
Flora lifts her cheek from his chest just as she feels his gaze tickle across her skin, water clinging to her lashes and running in delicate rivulets down the slope of her spine. Her grin blooms instantly, crooked and radiant, like she’s caught between pride and mischief. Rain beads against her curls, slicking them back from her face, and gods if she doesn’t look just a little too smug about it all.
[say]"I was two seconds away from channelling Frey again,"[/say] she confesses with a sultry little lilt, her voice soft but wicked, like it’s still echoing from the moans she’d stolen from his mouth minutes earlier. [say]"Would’ve made those pants disappear so fast you’d have thought they never existed."[/say]
Her fingers trail down his ribs, not quite ticklish, but certainly not innocent either, and with a teasing lift of her brow, she adds, [say]"I still could, you know. Especially since you won’t be able to wear your clothes for a few hours while they dry."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 09-01-2025
[say]"Oh my gods, Flora,"[/say] he laughs loud at that, tipping his head back to the ground with the force of it, grip tightening a bit on her like he means to keep her exactly like this—a complete and unrepentant devil. [say]"Yeah, my pants and all my control with it. Would have just been a firehose of jizz, like when you drop a bottle of conditioner and it just goes everywhere."[/say] His own grin sharpens now with satisfaction at that image, and perhaps one day they ought to try it out if only to find out just how much he could decorate her and her bathroom.
His chin dips down again, copper gaze flashing to her as one of his hands darts to grab her wrist. It's not firm, but the hold pauses her nails, the stare meaningful with the warning he levels. A bluff, really, he's in no state to do much right now, but he certainly can't just let her get away with thinking she can manage dancing on the cusp like that until her intrusive thoughts break into a full on assault. [say]"Oh, I see,"[/say] he smirks, releasing her wrist to stroke some of her wet hair off her temple. [say]"You think I don't learn from my mistakes? You think I don't have at least two pair of pants in my bag right now after each sleepover travesty I've endured with you?"[/say] He snorts, absolutely confident in his preparedness for her schemes. [say]"Unless...you'd prefer I just run around pantsless, because all you have to do is ask."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 09-01-2025
She pulls a face immediately, all scrunched nose and scandalised gasp as she groans, [say]"Ewwwwuh, Kaisel."[/say] with as much drawn-out, dramatic flair as she can manage. [say]"That's disgusting."[/say] But her eyes sparkle, and despite the protest, it’s clear she’s biting back laughter even as she rolls her eyes. [say]"As if you had any control to begin with."[/say]
When he catches her wrist she pauses, brows arching high in faux innocence, gaze sliding toward his hand like she’s trying to decide whether to make a scene about it or not. But then her smirk deepens, slow and sly, and her head tilts, curls dripping water onto his chest. [say]"Sleepover travesty?"[/say] she echoes, incredulous and deeply amused. [say]"Excuse me, but that night was the first time I’d ever actually considered wanting to sleep with you."[/say] The laugh that tumbles free is light and careless, her teeth flashing in a grin as she adds, [say]"If you can run anywhere right now, I’m taking that as a personal insult."[/say]
With an audible groan, she starts to peel herself off him, her limbs very much protesting the idea of motion. [say]"Gods,"[/say] she mutters, staggering slightly as she gets her knees beneath her. Her thighs tremble faintly, the ache delicious and all too fresh, and as she glances down at where his legs are still tangled in the remnants of his pants, her grin returns in full. [say]"Can't wait to see you shimmy your way out of those,"[/say] she says sweetly, holding out a hand to help him up.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 09-01-2025
Her response only deepens his grin, the spread of it hurting the corners of his cheeks where it lingers on display long after the sound of his laughs die out. [say]"That's entirely your fault,"[/say] he accuses, not even bothering to defend himself because, yeah. Getting her off first had been enough to tip him past rock hard—diamond rank erection at least. [say]"You did say my endurance is shit,"[/say] he reminds her with an almost sing-song effect. [say]"Guess we'll just have to keep practicing. I mean, 'training'."[/say]
[say]"Yea",[/say] he stresses with intentional attitude, [say]"what else would you call that outfit Frey whipped up for me?[/say] Although all the humor fades in an instant, surprise cutting in. He struggles to prop up onto a forearm so he can see her better. [say]"Wait, wait, wait—that night?"[/say] There's a pause, then a slow and playful spreads to just one end of his lips. [say]"It was ME you were thinking about in the bedroom when I walked in on you, wasn't it?"[/say] Smug has completely stained him at this point. She could tickle him on the bottom of his feet and he'd still be preening about this. Imagine if they'd just lept then.
Then, as the rest of her words echo through the haze of his now proud memory of her bathed in moonlight, arched in pleasure, he sighs a reassurance. [say]"Don't worry, I'm not running for at least an hour."[/say] Not even sure he'll be up in an hour, but she's managing the feat, and watching her does little to inspire him to attempt it. [say]"You and me both,"[/say] he mutters once he's free of her and can look down at his soaked attire, looking like some malformed merman with the way that shower has beat the loose edges flat along the ground.
Numb tingles race up his legs as he straightens them out in full for the first time in a while, eliciting a groan of complaint while he stuffs his good back beneath the zipper line. He inhales deeply, then grabs for her hand to help him up. The static spills down his legs and he wobbles for a minute, before turning to slouch with his back against the shower. Gathering balance and a breath, he hooks his thumbs into his waistband and shoves down. The wet fabric clings insistently to his skin, much thicker than the damp lace she'd been wearing, and for a moment nothing happens except his grimace. He rocks a bit back and forth, a bit like a fish just hauled onto deck, if upright, and finally a pocket of air gives and with a wet slap he heaves them to his knees. [say]"Fucking, harder than running a mile,"[/say] he curses, stomping out of the rest and kicking them to a corner with a loathing finality. [say]"Worth it though."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 09-01-2025
Flora huffs a breathless laugh, her eyes glinting as she shoots him a look over her shoulder. [say]"Your endurance is shit,"[/say] she agrees without remorse, her smirk curling as she turns toward him fully. [say]"You’ll know your training is complete when I can channel Frey and you don’t cum in your pants right away."[/say]
She flicks her wet curls back with a dramatic toss as he mentions the outfit, placing a hand on her hip like she’s gearing up for a speech. [say]"I would call it incredibly thoughtful and generous,"[/say] she sniffs, mock-offended. [say]"Who else has ever asked a god for a custom outfit for you? Hmm?"[/say]
But when he props up, when the grin starts creeping onto his face, her bravado falters. She stiffens slightly, trying to play coy, but the look he’s giving her makes that impossible. Her gaze flicks to the side then back again; her cheeks flush a warm, betraying pink before she lets out a groan and nods. [say]"Yes, fine,"[/say] she mutters, waving her hand like maybe that'll deflect some of the smug radiating off him. [say]"The way you just..grabbed me, off the counter and held yourself overtop of me on the floor? That was shockingly hot. Especially coming from you."[/say] She huffs again, quieter this time. [say]"So yeah, it was what I was thinking about when you rudely interrupted."[/say]
Watching him stomp out of his soaked pants like a grumpy, glorified trout has her snickering into her hand, but it quickly turns into a wicked grin as she moves closer. The second they’re free and flung aside, she loops her arms around his neck and presses in against him, sighing as her bare skin slides against his at last in a way that no amount of paying or fumbling about on the shower floor could compare with. [say]"Neither fucking nor running should be hard at all,"[/say] she murmurs into his ear, lips brushing his cheek.
Then, with one raised brow, she reaches past him and turns off the water. The sudden hush that follows softens the air between them, and when she looks back at him again, it’s with something gentler in her gaze, something quieter and more affectionate and unguarded beneath the humour. [say]"I know you didn’t really get to finish your nachos,"[/say] she murmurs, fingers brushing lightly down his spine, [say]"and you definitely didn’t get to shower properly either, but...think I can convince you to come collapse into bed with me?"[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 09-01-2025
The day two Floras appear in a heatwave of sin, literally divine in its touch, and he doesn't cum, would be the day he died.
He doesn't need her confirmation. It's clear on her face, on the aversion of her gaze, and the chance to see her so shy about something is rare indeed so he soaks it in without mercy. [Say]"Well,"[/say] he starts, voice dropping low again, rough with the memory of want. [Say]"I had a wet dream about you that night. Ruined Frey's toga, so guess we're even."[/say] Not that he's particularly keeping score of who masturbates about what, but if he did, he would be winning.
With the arrival of her skin back upon his, he happily wraps her back up. The wreath of his arms is lazy around her lower back, fingers curling with the shape of her ass, pressing in firmer, especially when she leans in. Gods, what did he just say about his endurance, yet there's no denying the rekindling of heat that responds to the squish of her along him. [Say]"Some of fucking should be hard,"[/say] he objects, and he rather thinks she'd agree to that. Besides, next time he'd be free of his pants, not half broken hearted over her, and show her exactly how much he could endure.
He glances back as the water finally stills and stops. He'd rather thought now they'd have a proper shower, but they have begun to prune, and standing upright for longer than needed is something he'll definitely avoid right now. A smile drifts in easy at her soft stare, and one hand retreats from her behind to tilt her chin into his lips. [Say]"Ro, you could convince me of a lot, but that isn't one of them."[/say] His words hang intentionally ominous in the small space he makes between them, lingering nose to nose as he brushes the tip against either side. [Say]"That's just a given."[/say]
He loosens his grip, and as his hand falls from her face, his fingers seek hers, light but hooking. [Say]"After you."[/say] He knows he'll have to let go sooner or later, to grab towels, to dry off, but he'll hold it as long as he can.