The intimacy is soothing. Clay's company always is, to Ran. Like something ancient, and deep, like looking in a well and see the sky reflected in the dark waters.

"It's just a tattoo," he murmurs, turning his face till his nose bumps into Clay's. Then his lips press on Clay's. "Don't worry too much about it," he mumbles, and his hand stays at the top of Clay's thigh, fingers on the inside seam, thumb rubbing at the soft outline of cock and balls.