He turns, then as she moves her fingertips gently over his legs. His poor cock is too dearly spent to stir again this evening, but he warmth that follows her touch is pleasant nonetheless. He reaches across the tray and sorts it a moment before coming back with something rather decadent--it is a smooth and liquid soap that smells of honeysuckle and grass. He had enjoyed the scent when he smelled it first, and the texture was fine enough that he wouldn't lament using it across the soreness of his backside later.

"I found this rather charming, but hadn't put much thought into additional treats," he admitted and handed her the bottle as he turned to lean against the side of the tub. He pillowed his head on his arms and peered back at her, comfortably.

"I have already had so many this evening, I fear I'll become insatiable."