I guess... I don't know. Maybe we should just feel things out and see where they lead us. We can take this slow if you want, but I think it's only fair to both of us that we explore these feelings together now that we know who the other really is.

He hesitates for a moment before moving closer to his brother, reaching out and brushing his fingertips against the skin of Ben's arm. The contact sends a shiver through both of them, and Conny feels himself grow harder at the touch. "Do you want me to do more?" he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

Well... Not sure really. Just wanted to see what it was all about, I guess. Hear other people's stories and stuff. And maybe find someone to share a beer or two with too, if ya know what I mean.

Well... Yeah. Sure. Why not? Been meaning to try out that new brewery in town anyway. What about tomorrow night around 9PM at the Tannhäuser Brewing Company?

He swallows hard. The light from the bedside lamp plays across your hands and face, revealing scars both old and new, some still red and raw-looking while others have faded to silvery lines of white. It's... intense, seeing you like this. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat as he stares, unable to tear his gaze away from the reminders of your past.

But then he thinks about it: if all these scars are on just your hands and face...

He can't help but wonder what else might be hidden beneath your clothes. The thought both excites and terrifies him in equal measure. Suddenly aware that he's been standing there staring for too long, he turns away, clearing his throat as he makes his way back into the living room. He sits down heavily on the couch, struggling to calm the frantic thunder of his heart and the strange new feelings churning in his gut.

Maybe it's best if you just stay here tonight?

He swallows hard. The light from the bedside lamp plays across your hands and face, revealing scars both old and new, some still red and raw-looking while others have faded to silvery lines of white. It's... intense, seeing you like this. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat as he stares, unable to tear his gaze away from the reminders of your past.

But then he thinks about it: if all these scars are on just your hands and face...

He can't help but wonder what else might be hidden beneath your clothes. The thought both excites and terrifies him in equal measure. Suddenly aware that he's been standing there staring for too long, he turns away, clearing his throat as he makes his way back into the living room. He sits down heavily on the couch, struggling to calm the frantic thunder of his heart and the strange new feelings churning in his gut.

Maybe it's best if you just stay here tonight?