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He wasn't sure why she made him feel comfortable. All his secrets he kept so close to his beaten heart, he was willing to divulge to her.

"There's a lot that's been goin' on, so it's kinda hard to say what's worse right now." He'd start with what was more recent, he supposed.

So he told her. He told her he'd ended up having a relationship with two women after Nevada had died the previous year. Told her he'd had a one night stand with a man named Zac on New Years. A drunken one night stand, of course. One that he barely remembered, aside from the more telling details he recalled of the act itself. He told her he'd been told by one of his girls, Cami, to hide the fact from his girlfriend Maebe.
He'd felt so guilty, and he'd told Maebe a month later. Told her how Maebe immediately turned odd, harming herself and throwing herself at him in rage. How the whole debacle had caused the three of them to have a sort of falling out when he said he'd needed time alone to gather his senses and try to come to terms with his shattered idea of his own identity; of a man who suddenly cheated on two girls with a man. A man of all things.
He told her these things while rubbing the marks on his skin left by a key and possible by Death; a key mark on his palm and an hourglass on his forearm. Told her that he'd gone back to Cami, giving in to her soft assurances that he was just fine and nothing was wrong; when in his mind he wasn't so sure; that he still needed to be alone and readjust. Find himself, or at least learn who he was now.

It was all so complicated, and his brow knit so tightly as he spoke it left marks.

Otto told her so much, that he nearly forgot she was there, until he was distracted once more by her froggy slippers.

"Sorry... that was way too much information.." He murmured distantly.

Otto was startled, if only because Sasha's fingers were cold, looking as she grasped his hand in a comforting manner. It was odd. They seemed nearly tangled now. Or maybe it was just him.

His eyes lidded as he cast his gaze down, pondering her advice carefully. Do what makes him happy. Because his life was indeed short. He worried so much what he ought to do, not what he wanted to do; maybe that had caused the desperation that made him give in to Zac.

He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"I feel... guilty, though." He admitted shakily. "There's a lot I'd like to do.. but I can't get over this feeling that.. I'm wrong. That I'm just like... doin' something I shouldn't. And if I let myself do what I want... whenever.. I.."

He huffed, tripping over his words clumsily.

"I don't wanna get in trouble. Or hurt people. Which makes me feel like I never shoulda let anyone get so close that they'd get hurt."

He wanted to believe her when she said he wasn't wrong. Wanted to believe letting himself break out of his shell a little more would be good for him. It was a hurdle he hesitated behind. He tried to let it sink in without allowing his self made wall of guilt bounce them back like a tennis racket. Sasha seemed to be shifting, and he almost thought nothing of it until it became alarmingly clear she was moving onto his lap.

The blond gave the woman's body an obvious once over, as he contemplated any other reason a woman would crawl into someone's lap. Maybe she was just being playful? After all, what would a lady like Sasha be doing trying to seduce a kid like him? Not that he was a kid anymore, but she could hardly want him after he'd spilled his guts about all his embarrassing and shitty problems.

He couldn't allow himself to believe she'd be thinking of something like that. Even as she gave him a small peck on the jaw. SHe was just being super friendly?

Okay, now he knew he was being a little ridiculous. Something was awry. Was she up to something? If she was... damn, it was flattering. He couldn't help but be flattered. He just hoped his fair skin didn't give any indication he was mildly flustered by it.

So he ignored her close proximity as best he could, awkwardly avoiding touching her at all lest he give the wrong impression if she was indeed just using him as a chair. For now he gave a deep breath and considered her words again.

"I wouldn't have known if I'd missed anythin'... so I dunno. Can't miss what you never got, right?" He was certain the last year and change had been nothing but selfish mistakes on his part. If he'd never let Nevada be his girl, maybe she'd be alive. If he'd kept it in his pants and never given into Maebe's strong and repeated advances, maybe he'd have his integrity? If he hadn't taken Cami to Disneyland, he'd never have made friends with her and dragged her into his wretched world of slefish need and loneliness.

Could he truly agree with Sasha? Would he have been happier had he never ever taken risks, selfish or otherwise?

His hands fidgeted on either side of him on the couch, still resisting the need to hold Sasha steady as she sat so comfortably on his lap. She really did have very pretty hair...

"Guess it just goes against all I was taught at home, even if I tell myself I didn't give a s**t what my parents ever said to me." Resisting desire, integrity in restraint, and all the sorts of things he grew up with in his small town in Louisiana.

"It's be nice to just let myself be selfish." He wished it were so easy to do what felt good.

He was sure she wasn't totally right. There were people looking out for him... right? Or it was just that they cared what happened. Once again, similar, but so different. Just like love, and what he'd assumed love meant. He'd been wrong then too, remembering his talk with Gale.

His heart rate began to rise as Sasha's nails found his skin. He fought the shiver than ran through his body, as both pain and the soft breath of her words tickled and pierced his skin. He wanted to know what living in the moment felt like. The few times he'd allowed it, the outcome was mixed; but he usually enjoyed the process. The more Sasha made contact with him, the less he was able to pretend she wasn't teasing. Well, almost. He was never able to accept that someone actually wanted him. It had taken so long for him to give into Maebe's advances, and it had been hard. Of course he'd wanted her when she'd hit on him, but he was always so certain she was playing with him. Like Sasha was.

Just being played with... but did he care? He was just scared he'd open his mind to it, and get stabbed in the back. He was always scared of getting hurt or embarrassed.

He'd always been aware of the scar on the back of his neck, especially now that he'd begun to over it and many on his torso with the beginnings of tribal tattoos. They were hidden well under the layers of fabric he wore; baggy shirts and hoodies as was his style. Were his longer hair pushed aside, the ink would be seen fairly easily.

"I've nearly died a whole lotta times." He agreed. He was beginning to think he'd never die, because then God would lose his punching bag if he died.

He gave Sasha a careful look, trying to mentally overcome the redness in his cheeks and earlobes from Sasha's contact. Rather than answer her question, he asked his own. "I gotta be honest... are you comin' onto me? Or just ********' around." Because he did not take kindly to being teased. His small ego was too cracked to allow another hammer throw.

He sucked in a breath. Well that was certainly telling. A lot louder and less subtle. As if any of it had been subtle, but oftentimes Otto needed a punch to the face to make him see what was said to be obvious.

So now he was faced with what he'd been advised of. Go with what felt good and right. And to Otto, what was good for him and what felt good? They were the same. Weren't they? There was no line or boundary he could see, because subtleties were invisible to Otto Graves.

"Oh." He replied dumbly. He could not resist the feeling that welled up when he was given attention. Any attention. He ate it up. He nearly writhed in place, a slight squirm as he fought with what he wanted. He wanted to try things out. He wanted to give in to moments like this, maybe? Was it so different than when he'd given in to Maebe the first time? Only this time, he wouldn't look for reasons to add love into the equation.

So he finally allowed his hands to leave their place at his sides on the couch. Call him wicked, and he did call himself as such within his mind, but he slid a hands firmly on Sasha's bottom, nails digging into the plushness, his head dipping to find the spot behind her ear to begin a series of hot and heavy kisses down her jawline. There was always a painful worry when he did anything slightly intimate with a woman; the worry that he'd be rejected or scoffed at for not doing it right. Like all things in life, he supposed. He was so worried he'd do it wrong. It was easier after the first few times, of course. But he'd never been with Sasha. It was new. Scary.

So he just let his desire guide his actions. He wanted to dig his stubby nails into her flesh. Wanted to taste her skin. Wanted to tread and experiment to see if he liked it.

As was his nature, he teetered with morals that went along with bedding someone just because the opportunity came alone. Sasha was uttering husky assurances that it was perfectly healthy to let go of guilt and insecurity. Two heavy hitters in his mind, to be sure. They were tough to beat back. Even right then, he wondered if he ought to push away and stop this. But... he didn't want to.

His head jerked back with her tug, and he only gave a short sniff as a reaction; an insignificant intake of air. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and his skin tingle, and he fought to keep his breathing steady as she grazed her teeth against his skin. It was common for Otto to play it as cool as he could until he had zero control of his reactions left.

Forever afters, he thought, were becoming increasingly silly to believe in. He'd promised himself such things time and time again, and he was learning that either Life had no plans to let him have it, or he just didn't suit such a thing. He could never linger in one spot long enough for a forever to come to be.

Maybe he'd really been deluding himself all these years in his pursuit of normality. He'd never be normal.

"Yeah, that'd be good." Otto murmured in response, maybe feeling a little too eager. It wasn't so much her words that prodded him on now. Although they did help a great deal.
He was enticed by Sasha's tendency to being rough. The biting, the hair pulling. While these weren't things Otto necessarily needed to be turned on, they ranked high in his preferences. He wasn't certain why it got his blood going, and as much as he wanted to find out 'why', it was just one of those things. He often wanted to know the answer to 'why' to nearly everything. Why did he want something, or why was something happening.

However, sometimes, why didn't really matter when it felt this good.

What an experience that had been.

Otto had thought he knew what rougher sex was. Before this. And it was still enjoyable. Even if the bites and marks were now throbbing a little, when he'd gotten them it had sent him into countless cries of pain that held great pleasure.

He laid there now, revelling in the afterglow and the feel of the bedding beneath him. He allowed his heart beat to soften back down to normal levels, and came to a realization. He felt no guilt now. He'd done something new, enjoyed it a lot, and was left feeling pleased and at ease. He could live with this.

His brows knit as his attention slowly came into focus on Sasha and her question. What colour was.... oh.

He took the wine, giving it an equally baffled once over. He'd never had wine, but he'd give it a shot anyway.

"Um... red. It was red." The mark on his hand was not red, but the key had been.