Men are often curious about Sinric's body. As an oddity, as a source of amusement. They want to see, touch, laugh. Rarely do any do this!

Sinric's back arches and he cries into Athelstan's kisses, clinging to him. The small crease of a scar where his balls once were is sensitive and crackles with sparks that shoot up his spine. He curses in Greek, half pulling away from the too bright and to sudden pleasure but pushing towards it in equal parts, torn in half by it.