"Not all men are willing to use it," he counters, letting Vasquez bear himself up in even mocking defense. "Skilled or no. And I am perfectly capable wherever you prefer me."

But talk is a currency that loses value with use, in situations such as this. Withdrawing one leg, he puts his outflung arm around the knee, adjusting for the quiet slip of his body through the water. He moves to straddle his lap on the slight shelf of stone, give him a taste of what he might find over him tonight.

"Leave the window unlatched," he says, hovering close. One hand brushes the cigarette from Vasquez's mouth, taking it up to one side. He can taste it when he leans in, a kiss that starts simple and turns sharp, rolls and eventually scrapes the man's bottom lip on his teeth. The other hand pats him on the cheek, and Cael puts the cigarette between his own lips as he climbs out over Vasquez's shoulder. The air is cold in the dark, in its own right and after the heat of the spring. The dark curtain of his hair takes a deep scoop out of his silhouette, as he walks back to his clothes. "I'll stop by tonight."