Now that they're in private, Barcus is more comfortably handsy than he was in the tavern. Their height difference is significant, two feet of clearance between Barcus' head and Bel's, and he has to reach up to hold him around the waist. This is the opposite of a problem as far as the gnome is concerned, and he tilts his head back to rest his chin against Bel's stomach, looking up at him with hazy, darkened eyes, which flutter closed at that kiss.

There's a feeling of want, but also, strangely, comfort and security.

He follows along easily enough, letting go only to shove his door open. "Are they dangerous, though? I think you're the sort of man who handles his lovers well." Even if they're one-night-stands, which this isn't.

"Not to be too presumptuous, but do you prefer to top or...?" His hands slide down to strokes the drow's hips. "I'm comfortable with either, though the size difference between us means some, mm, care and preparation is important."