Yeah that wasn't happening, Simon. Judas just gave Simon a hard look for the attempt, his elbows hooked on the counter and a drink in one hand, condensation dripping to the floor. He was easy with his body in the nude, but it showed the years of his life written across it like a book. Scars, the needle marks in his arms, even his ankles. The tattoos, all in faded black, wrapped around his biceps. Lean, without much in the way of fat on him, and a lot of his bulk ended up in the volume of his coat. Still, his shoulders were broad, good muscles in his arms.

"Fuck me," he muttered, shifting his weight. "Gonna be sore in the morning. There better be one giant shower hidden in all this luxury with a lot of hot water behind it." He rubbed his jaw, feeling the friction from the couch where his skin had been ground into the black leather.