Syx hadn’t slept the entire time he’d been behind bars, he just couldn’t. The dreams always haunted him. The solitary made him feel half mad. More than half mad really. He’d pulled a stupid stunt to get out.  More foolish than he should, but it worked. Anna and Minion would be eager to see him. So would Wayne. Yet he found himself outside of the towering building that Harrison lived in. The bags under his eyes were deep, a five-o-clock shadow on his jaw, his clothing too big and stolen. He’d used a brain bot to fly up to the roof of a nearby building. He didn’t even know what his plan was. He was just tired and wanted the thoughts to go away.
Syx understood boundaries all too well. He has a million of them and has danced up to those lines so many times. It’s only been recently that he’d started to open up. With that, the craving for more only growing. He would take whatever he was allowed, desperately not wanting to lose what this was. He stood to accept the offered clothing, “That’s an acceptable proposition.”
“Good.”  Harrison lets Syx take the pajamas from his hands, and he reaches for the hem of the other man’s undershirt.  You don’t wear an A shirt under Egyptian Cotton Satin.  It would be a bit like mixing Dom Pérignon with Kool Aid.
Syx set the pajamas aside and lifted his arms to let Harrison strip his undershirt from him. A blush creeping onto his face at being so nude before him. It still made him nervous, but he was growing to trust Harrison more all the time. His greed for touch and contact overriding all else. Once his undershirt joined the pile with the rest of his prison clothing yet more faint scars were revealed covering his ribs and stomach. The worst one that was obviously medical in nature.Â
RP backup 