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Bornes huffed as he was moved. His position was a bit more uncomfortable than Isiah's, as he felt like he was going to fall off the bed, despite Isiah holding him in place.

As he returned the kiss, he bent his right leg, resting his knee on the mattress as best he could, while resting most of his weight on his left leg, which was now on the ground. This was an awkward and uncomfortable stretch- so much so that the hybrid decided it would be best to lean all his weight into Isiah and have him lay his back on the bed.

After this, he carefully rolled over and around, so he was laying on his back on the cot, perpendicular to Isiah. His tail wagged between his spread and slightly bent legs.

His right hand rested right above his beltline, his left outstretched to playfully tug at Isiah's shaved head, hoping the man would catch the hint.

[[After some time, Isiah is sitting on the edge of the cot, back to Q, who is still laying on his back on the cot.]]

Bornes' frown deepened as Isiah tried to play it like it wasn't a big deal.
The hybrid's eyes opened, squinted against the light, his head still pounding from the onslaught his retinas had already taken.

He looked about, on the floor, trying to discern if there were any towels lying about. There weren't- at least not that he could see. He looked down at the mess on himself, feeling incredibly ashamed. He had to clean it up somehow.

He stuffed himself back into his boxers and pulled his pants up, leaving them unzipped for the time being. He then tried to wipe off the mess on his pants, but it was too sticky. He should've known better. He didn't know what he was thinking.

After it was over his hands, he tried in vain to wipe it off on the mattress, easily becoming frustrated with himself.

He was a failure. And what was worse, he was a failure to another man, a person who he had been desperately trying to upstage for practically as long as he could remember.
And now, if he didn't get this off, he'd either have to go pantsless or have a permanent reminder of just what a f** failure he was.

And he was not going to go pantsless.
He closed his eyes with a growl, rubbing his hands against the edge of the cot, hoping the bend would give more resistance. He could feel it did not work half as well as he thought it would.

He scooted himself to the end of the cot, blindly placing his boots on the floor and pushing himself off, still wobbly as he had not fully recovered, beginning to walk.

But he faltered and fell to his knees, cursing himself, because he couldn't remember why he had even wanted to walk in the first place, when his pants still needed cleaning. And his hands still had gunk on them.

Yes, if he didn't feel worthless before, he certainly felt it now, a whine began to emit from him, but it was cut short, both by pain and intention-- he didn't need attention from Isiah. That would be just more humility.

He held his breath, idly rubbing his messiest hand against the dirt, hoping that would work.
Needless to mention, it just made dirty goop.

This was all his fault.
He didn't even know why he'd begun to kiss Isiah. It was stupid. And he didn't know why he didn't tell Isiah to stop when he had the chance-- his a** might have felt less sore if he had done so, even.
He wasn't gay, he had to keep telling himself that.

He held back sobbing to himself-- he was being enough of a dramawhore already. He wanted his own room, so this sort of s**t didn't happen.
He needed his own living space, so his stupid newly found sexual desires didn't randomly pounce on the nearest person who always happened to be Isiah. Who was a man!

Bornes knew there were women in this village. He'd never seen one but he knew they were here. They had been talked about. He could hear female voices from time to time.
Why couldn't he have just went through the motions in an effort to find a woman? Someone he could dominate, and feel good about himself, and grope breasts.

Not someone who dominated him, made him feel like a pathetic loser, make him emotionally conflicted, or confused about his sexual orientation.

Bornes groaned through a closed mouth, sitting on his posterior, back to Isiah, eyes still closed.

"I don't know," he grumbled. Flicking his tail and looking down at his pants, though he had still not yet opened his eyes. He pushed his glasses back over his eyes.
"I can't get this stupic c** off my pants..."

Bornes humphed. "They will think it. It does not matter. I want it off. It is not like we have an extra pair of pants lying around...."

He opened his eyes behind his sunglasses and tried to wipe it his pants again. It was hopeless, it had dried too much. He threw his head back, closing his eyes again with another groan.

Bornes watched Isiah come over to him, his eyes opened at the sound of him getting off the bed.
The hybrid's tail dragged across the floor nervously as Isiah scrapped the stain off so easily. The ease of which Isiah did it made Bornes frustrated with himself, that he could not get it off as easily.

"Thank you," he breathed, though it was littered with an aire of annoyance. He brought himself to a crouch and after a small pause, said again, "I am sorry. So sorry. I am no good at this...." he looked away, his voice softening "... With men... I am sorry."

Bornes took a moment to take it all in. This was an awkward conversation, and he knew it would just get more awkward since they never had time to themselves, away from eachother.

He faced Isiah, spinning on the soles of his boots before putting his knees down to keep his balance. "Next time, we will not have sex? I will just give you what you want? Oral sex? .... If there is a next time?"

The hybrid put his left hand on the ground, his right on his knee, a confused look on his face.
"...Because I offered earlier and you said no...?"