With that decision made, Cass moves to kick his own jeans from off his ankles, squirming under Eccarius to finally free himself of them. And once that zipper is open his hand slips in and cups, the inactivity a light tease.

"Just don't expect me own lad to be up to much, alright? I got puncture marks to be contendin' with." Ones that won't be healing until he gets a pint or two of blood inside himself. He's fairly certain he's lost more than that thanks to his blood thirsty boyfriend, and therefore any lack of responsiveness or usual bursts of activity can be excused, he thinks.