[ It takes JL approx three and a half second to cover the distance between his neat, always so fucking neat, pile of clothing and the shower stall, Marcel following him intently with his gaze, though honestly his eyes are the most engaged part of him right now, his cock hanging limply between his thighs and what, is he fucking sick? Usually it would take one quarter of a glimpse of the other man's body, because you only ever get that much as a fucking treat, to get him hard, but apparently he just can't be assed right now. Might, logically, be the pain, though that hasn't stopped him before.

Whatever.

Scoffing, he follows, rolling one shoulder because it feels prickly and throbbing, muscles definitely tighter than usual. Nah, the pain isn't even really registering, it rarely does with him, yeah, when you've fallen onto cars during parkour enough times to lose count, pain stops being a factor. It's just his body being difficult and Marcel knows how to deal with difficult. Hey, he fucking well fucks JL sometimes. Not right now and why the fuck is he even getting into the shower if he's not in it for the sex (?), but sometimes, sure. He gets lucky.

The water hits his face straight-on when he steps into the spray and it burns there a second, dissolving clots of blood around his nose and mouth, making his black eye fucking pound. Grunting, he reaches up and wipes off the worst with one flat palm running down over his face, the water trickling down his front now turning a pinkish red.

His only reaction is blinking a couple of times, bad eye smarting, and looking JL's backside up and down. Okay, might be gathering enough fucks for a reaction now. ]