It does feel familiar. Smooth skin, the colors of stone: slate, granite, obsidian. Barcus finds himself watching his own hands sliding across Bel's shoulders and down his back, a visual echo of every tryst he's had with another deep gnome. It's a shame that they couldn't have this so easily in Faerun. There is a kind of kinship to be found between the peoples of the Underdark--or there would be, if they weren't all so cruel to one another.

Any philosophical musings he might have voiced are gone in the blink of an eye when Bel kisses him just below his ear. That happens to be one of the top two or three most sensitive spots on Barcus' body, and he gasps, taking in a deep, shaky breath as his head rolls to one side, instinctively encouraging that kiss. More, please...

For a moment he's lost, hands kneading distractedly at Bel's shoulders, but finally he manages to get words out: "Perfect. You feel..." 'Like coming home' isn't particularly sexy and begs a lot of questions, but it wouldn't be inaccurate. "You feel like I've been missing you for years, and never knew it until now."