As a person, he would be gravely upset to have disappointed. As a Keeper, though, that is just how women usually talked with newer male lovers in his culture—a little curt, flirtatious but dismissive—so it doesn't even occur to him that the script was optional. "Wasn't somebody complaining earlier that they get sensitive after cumming?" he hisses through his teeth, reaching down and grabbing the Viera by the cock again. "I would suggest more effusive compliments if you want to ever recover."

After all, it was an iron rule of jahl'to shapah, the idealized social pact of his people: Keeper bottoms get what Keeper bottoms want.

Red Fir spasms like he's been electrocuted. "You were incredible! I'm going to be sore for days! I came harder than I had in months!"

"Ah, but you see," he says, calmly, languidly, pedagogically: "I had no reason to believe you were lying earlier, but I do have reason to believe that you're lying now. So that means that I should disregard these new protestations of my prowess in favor of your previous assertions of my mediocrity." He nuzzles Red Fir's shoulder and pumps the cock in his hand. He wraps his legs around the man's thigh, forcing the viera's hips open so he cannot worm away. "Until I have confirmation otherwise, I will have to act under the assumption that you are not, in fact, satisfied, and that only a more robust abuse of your body's sensitive areas will be sufficient to placate you."

"No, no, time out, time out, I actually do need a break now," he says, tapping Qana'to's hand as he says that. "Too much, too much."

He pouts and withdraws his hand. "I trust that that's not a mistake you will make again, Red Fir," he says rubbing his face of the man's shoulder and closing his eyes. "Or do the two parts have differing sensitivities, and I should have availed myself of the gash underneath your cock instead if I wanted to bring you back into line?"

He pets Qana'to and hums to tightl thoughtfully. "My cock is more sensitive," he admits, "but I actually need some water and to stretch my legs and all that. But, good gods, just how much energy do you have?" he laughs.

"None at all," he says. "It was a bluff." He cackles and pushes his way out of the bed. "I'll go find you some water, then." He walks away, bouncing slightly and tail twitching, pausing to pick up the kiipahgo translation that he had dropped on the floor earlier and returning it to the desk where it had been originally. "I'll be right back!"

"I shall be waiting," Red Fir replies, lips quirking with amusement while he watches the Keeper's hips and tail sway. The thought comes unbidden that he really wants to eat Qana'to out sometime, and he has to marvel at himself; usually at this point he'd really be too spent to be contemplating further ideas for what to do with/to his lover. Feels almost like he's twenty-five again.

Coincidentally, Qana'to's tail flicks upward for balance as he leans down to set the book in its resting place, inadvertently advertising to the Viera. Qana'to himself, having no idea what thoughts transpire in his lover's head, simply bounds away without looking back. When he returns, he is carrying a big porcelain jug and a smirk. "You know, I was having so much fun that I forgot that I'm not supposed to walk around naked except when going directly to the onsen," he says with a chuckle as he pours water into a cup and hands it over to Red Fir. "But they are so loath to stop me after everything lately, that instead of correct me, they just tried to get me back in here as quickly as they could." He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. "I wonder if I can get away with that more often."

When Qana'to's back, Red Fir has cleaned himself up a bit—toweled the cum and sweat off, some—and is going through a sequence of stretches next to the bed. "There isn't really anything anyone can do about it, you know," he observes, conversationally. "They might stop inviting you to parties but you are who you are. I've personally always found these people's insistence on wearing clothes at all times—and so many of them!—a bit baffling."

"And I could do with a few fewer parties," he says to himself, before brightening up again. "It's stifling, isn't it? I feel like I crush myself every couple of minutes." He stretches out on the bed, lying on his back and watching the Viera. "I try to stick to robes that I can wear without pants beneath them, but it's still too much usually." He purrs rolls onto his stomach. "Here it is rude to show off, but for my people its rude to hide. Implies that you think the other person will try to hit you there. I prefer our way with it, I must say." He cocks his head. "What about your people? Is it more usual to clothe yourself when you're around others?"

"Clothes are meant to be functional, for us," he says, moving to a position where he's looking at Qana'to upside down between his legs. "Shoes are for preventing you from hurting your feet, when that's necessary. Coats are for warmth. We did have any amount of using clothes as decoration, but not this much, we all looked drab and samey compared to how much sheer variety there is in what people wear outside our villages. I appreciate the decoration, I admit, but the mandatory aspect of it all, and the, the, the expectation that certain parts are meant to be hidden more than others is just." He shakes his head and moves on to another stretch. "Silly."

“It’s sort of the opposite for us,” Qana’to opines. “Decoration is most of what we use clothes for around others—in the Shroud, I’d be likelier to wear a warm coat while traveling on my own than in a village. Most people would look at me oddly if I wore a full covering around the bonfire.” He looked over toward the Viera again. “It is nice to be around someone who understands that. Jokes and flirtation in the onsen aside, I thank you for listening.”

"Well, around a bonfire you would not need full covering, would you? The fire is warm enough." He hops to his feet and whirls around to grin at Qana'to. "And you are quite welcome. I did not particularly envision my day going quite like this, today, but I can't say I have any complaints."

“The feeling is very mutual,” Qana’to replies with a sigh. “Sex was the furthest thing from my mind when I woke this morning.” He grinned and nodded at the table. “I was working on that translation, actually, and thought to spend the whole day on it. This was far more enjoyable.”

"'More enjoyable than translating a book on trade', I'm going to wear that title with pride."

“Don’t be too upset. You could be merely ‘adequate,’” he shoots back with a grin.

"I'm not upset, are you kidding me, you don't get to fuck your hero every day."

Qana'to freezes. Moon's mercy. "Well, I'm... flattered," he says, looking away briefly before returning to his playful tone. "It must be terribly disappointing to meet him and find him merely adequate in bed."

"...I hit a nerve there. Uh, sorry?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It just caught me off-guard." He sits up, hands in his lap, and then suddenly starts to talk quickly. "I fear reality is more ordinary than all that. People seem to think the Warrior of Light moves mountains on his own, but that's a strategic myth. Normally I just silently let people believe whatever because it works to the scions' advantage, but," he shrugs, "that seems wrong under the circumstances. What you detected was me debating whether to play the part in front of you or tell you that I'm really just a frontline medic. I have decent facility with a spear or black magic when the occasion requires, too, I guess." He shifts uncomfortably on the bed. Talking like this is new to him, after so long playing a part. "They chose to make me the face of the enterprise largely because I have little fear of kings and the like. I can talk under pressure." And I don't run my mouth like Alphinaud. "The fighting is secondary."

"Well, ah," that's a lot of emotional vulnerability right there huh. He sits next to Qana'to and wraps one arm around the miqo'te. "I don't think I thought you could move mountains on your own but admittedly my mental image of you was probably somewhat exaggerated by the narrative. Sorry for the pedestal, I realise it must be uncomfortable." He squeezes Qana'to against him a bit and turns his face to rest his forehead on Qana'to's shoulder.

"It's nothing you did!" he says with a sardonic laugh. "If anyone owes me an apology for it—well, that's not important," he coughs into his hand awkwardly. "Point is, I just didn't expect the comment, and wasn't sure which, uh, version of me you were really looking to meet. The "dutiful hero" persona or the naked, horny catboy who would rather be fucking than out installing rulers in foreign countries." He scoffs gently. "I guess I sort of made that choice for you, now, huh?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting to really meet any version of you, at least not in so many words. I imagined we might talk shop when Krile said I should come with, and I was—curious—and then you seemed to really resent that conversation, which, fair enough, really, with those two snakes leading it—well. My point is I wasn't really looking to meet anyone in particular and now I'm meeting you and you're just you."

"Yes, sorry for my attitude back there," he says. "I have not been feeling very myself lately, after everything here—" he gestures vaguely. "I was looking forward to catching my breath and not being out in public, strangled by clothes and demands, and so when I came to that meeting I was already prepared to be offended."