[ He can see that look of concern as clearly as he can taste Mace in his mouth still. The look he shoots back is calm and a little wry. ]

I pray better on my knees.

[ All the same, he's delicate and careful when he moves. Tucks himself away and precariously edges himself off the bed so he can take a knee on the hardwood. Like this, there's minimal bending and curling. Mace is up high enough off the ground that most of it's gonna come from his neck and upper back, far less in his core. It's all part of a well-thought out strategy he formulated in the two second post orgasm clarity he found.

On his knees, he tugs at Mace's thighs again to guide and drag him right up to the edge. Shifts himself forward until his stomach's just an inch or two away from pressing into anything.

The flat of his palms slide up thighs, thumbs dipping over the curve toward the inner spaces, one of them finding and passing over the hard line of his cock. ]

Do me a favor and don't think about my stomach while I'm doing this. I really don't wanna accidentally build an association. Things are gonna get weird enough already.

[ What with, you know, the murder. ]