One shot, one chance; it could have been his, and that possibility was too good to turn down at the time, so he took it. Either way, it had been too long, too damn long. Like, fifteen years? For god's sake, it was one thing to be a walking lime green glow stick with a lab coat and another to be able to get flustered, heated, needy, and heavily into someone or something but unable to physically feel it, to physically show it like other men could. No matter how hard he wants to feel, he was still as smooth as a Ken doll.

It was honestly a special type of hell for him, so when Circe offered to give him the ability to have not just his boys and said glow stick back but everything else back in exchange for actually going through with helping to kill the princess—yes, yes. It was a fuckin yes; there weren't even any doubts about it. With the backdrop of the rest of his team having their own adventures in their rooms by their partners in the guest quarters of the palace, he had to make up for fifteen years.

So when you opened the door, there he was at the foot of his bed, happily overstimulated, practically panting; even if soft, the heat and smoke coming out of his mouth area at every huff confirmed it. Meanwhile, his usual lab coat wasn't even on, tossed to the side of the room. Damn it, you accidentally walked in on him. Fuck, did it have to be right now?? Ugh. "Don't you knock? Jesus," his voice was strained, worn out by the seventh round of this, "If you're not going to get over here and help a guy out, then get out. Sincerely no homo, though."