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Karl can tell something is off when he returns from his late-night factory work. He’d been working on his newest line of Soldaten. Something spurred on by the inspiration to work more with the Lycans surrounding the area. It’s a side project, but with the way that Heisenberg is with his projects, it’s not something he takes lightly, preferring to spend hours on end in his lab manufacturing and building.
Even with Miranda dead, his little passion project has found its way into his hobbies. There’s really no use for all the little machines and trinkets he’s made, but he finds himself slaving over corpses anyways. He tells himself it’s to protect that little haven he’s made for Ethan and Rose and him, and he keeps it at that. He doesn’t feel like he needs more of an explanation if he doesn’t want to give one.
His little haven, however, is tainted. And Karl can tell there’s something off the moment he enters the living side of the factory. The air smells like a certain type of rank that hadn’t been there before. It’s acerbic and so foul that he shuts his mouth the moment it hits his tongue, wincing. He knows nothing else smells like that besides a Lycan going through a bad cycle, but that smell still doesn’t match perfectly. It’s lighter in the undertone, less like sulfur, and more like body odor.
The high whine that follows echoing off the factory wall, is all Heisenberg needs to hear to know it’s something with Ethan.
He continues through the door and past the next hall, following his nose before he finally makes it to the bedroom. The scene before him shocks him into sobriety from his assumptions.
Ethan’s covered in a slick layer of sweat, sheen across the expanse of his exposed pale skin. The perspiration drips between furrowed browbones and half-lidded eyes before falling past his open, lolling tongue onto the pillow below him, clamped tightly between trembling thighs. His entire frame is hunched over, focused on that pillow, hips rutting into the fabric like he’ll die if he doesn’t breed it in some shape or form.
Ethan doesn’t even notice Heisenberg open the door, lips parted slightly and eyes unblinking, gazing across the man. Or, maybe he does notice because just a second later, a low, warning growl vibrates through his throat. Heisenberg’s never heard him growl like that before, especially not with his tail tucked between his legs and that sourness permeating the room. Something is terribly wrong with this situation, and Heisenberg can tell.
“Ethan? Are you alright?” Heisenberg shuts the door behind himself, causing the growl to string up a beat louder. Ethan’s claws pierce the bed, threatening to tear the fabric. His hackles are raised, and it seems like, at any moment, he’ll try to rip Heisenberg’s throat out. His head is unmoving, but his eyes glare up at him, teeth bared, shoulders hunched, cock drooling between his legs. “Talk to me, Papa.”
Ethan still doesn’t move, his thrusting has stopped even though his cock leaks desperately. Heisenberg’s never seen him like this before. But he’s also never had the opportunity to.
Shortly after moving in, Heisenberg had warned Ethan of the Lycans and their aggression and how it might be smart to infect him with some lesser form of Lycanism if only to ease the tensions. Ethan, in desperation for some form of normalcy and uncaring for his own ruined body, had accepted.
Of course, Heisenberg didn’t entirely know what the symptoms would be afterward, especially considering Ethan’s molded features. He had done a few tests beforehand on some subjects and found no bad reactions, but considering the fact that Ethan’s cells had been completely replaced - he had no way to test how it would go.
And it seems to have not gone as well as Heisenberg had hoped. He knew breeding season wasn’t far when he infected Ethan, but he figured they’d work through it together. That doesn’t seem to be the case now. The man’s nearly rabid, running on instinct alone. He should have accounted for his fear of vulnerability after everything that’s happened to him. This is the most vulnerable Heisenberg’s ever seen him.
“Hey, it’s me. You know me,” Heisenberg doesn’t take another step forward. He hopes that if he talks enough, he can help Ethan come down from this. There’s certainly some glimmer of recognition deep in that expression, just not nearly enough to rely on. “You’re alright, Papa, I’m not here to hurt you.”
Ethan’s eyes - hollow and defensive - drag up to Heisenberg’s face and then lower down to his sweat-stained shirt, and then back up again as if trying to process. Heisenberg thinks he won’t recognize him, and will continue to keep himself guarded and ready to pounce. But, to his surprise, that’s not what Ethan does at all.
As he pants, he stops baring his teeth, slowly, and in the most broken,
tired
voice Karl’s ever heard from him, he speaks. “It… It
hurts
- “ His hips begin rocking again, slowly, as if to try to ease some little bit of the ache deep in his gut. Heisenberg’s been there, he knows what it’s like, knows how it feels to so desperately need to fit himself inside something and breed it. The aggression, the hatred, the feral, unknowing need to do as his body commands, as if he’s out of control of it. A
prisoner
to his hormones and his skin. He understands the anguish in Ethan’s voice. He understands the subtle hint of fear that graces Ethan’s eyes. He
knows
.
“I know it does,” He replies gently, as tenderly as he can muster. He’s not normally one to give comfort like that, it is much more of Ethan's forte, but he tries his best. He's calmed Lycans down from this state before, surely he can do the same for Ethan. "Do you want me to help you?"
Ethan doesn't reply for the longest time; the only sound that leaves him is the soft, rhythmic panting as he presses himself further against the pillow, the friction painful and unsatisfying but more relieving than nothing. Heisenberg takes a step closer, and Ethan doesn't notice, but when he does it again, the man's face whips to the side, and once again, he snarls, baring his teeth. Almost as if realizing, coming to his senses, he shakes his head, brows furrowed. "I don't... I don't..." He swallows thickly, gripping the pillow harder, tearing through the fabric. "Don't know what's... what's happening - I'm..."
"You're in rut," Karl replies blankly, "I'm surprised you haven't tried to rip my throat out already." He wishes Ethan would laugh at it, even if it isn't necessarily funny, but he doesn't.
"Rut..." Ethan repeats back, testing the word on his tongue. "Rut."
"You need to empty your balls, Ethan," Heisenberg says. "Or else you're going to keep feeling like this. Pull a high enough fever and... Hell, I don't know what would happen then."
Ethan nods mindlessly, even though Karl can tell he doesn't really understand. He's just trying to keep his grasp on reality while still tending to his cock as best he can, hips stuttering, thighs trembling, and cramping around the pillow.
"Wouldn't you rather me instead of that?" He asks, idly moving his hands to his trenchcoat, ready to take it off but not wanting to overstep boundaries, not wanting to make Ethan even worse than he already is. "Let me take care of you." Even just smelling that thick scent is getting him worked up. Ethan isn't completely relaxed yet, though, and he needs the man to relax in order to take care of him. He's not going to try to fuck Ethan when he's in this state, not when he's this clueless and terrified and eager to bite for blood. "Do you want that?"
Ethan continues to pant, but his brows furrow with something else - not irritation or anger, but curiosity. Slowly, he turns his attention back to Heisenberg. He inhales a few times through his nose, follows the scent to Heisenberg. The older man watches as Ethan's pupils widen with realization, and slowly, he begins to relax in the other's presence. "Mhmm..."
"You gotta let me come closer, can I do that?" Heisenberg continues, hesitantly ready to take another step forward. He hopes his own arousal's scent - simply from the smell of Ethan like this - is enough to, in turn, relax Ethan. Slowly, that bitter, tart, sourness leaves and is instead replaced by something muskier, something thick and salty but still warm. It smells, above all else, like Ethan. With a darker undertone, the smell of arousal, of sex permeating and pungent.
Ethan nods in reply to Heisenberg's request but still doesn't let go of the pillow, still doesn't completely let his guard down. Heisenberg doesn't expect him to. He just takes another step forward, at the edge of the bed now, nearly in touching distance to Ethan. Ethan watches him carefully, eyes glued to where his fingers begin working at the buttons of his coat, down the front of his torso, finally releasing the clothing from his shoulders to let it fall to the ground. And then he continues, pulling off his array of necklaces.
While Heisenberg works, stripping off his layers, Ethan keeps his eyes dead set on his lover, and his hips start up a bit harder. Heisenberg can smell the pre leaking from him, drooling over the pillow, length throbbing. He can smell the arousal, and it's dizzying. His head spins with each new layer he sheds until he's finally shirtless. "How are you feeling, Winters?" Heisenberg coaxes, bringing his hands down to his pants but not working them quite yet, instead eager to check-in.
Ethan replies with a low whine, brows furrowed, glimpsing down at Heisenberg's lower stomach. "Need..."
Karl smiles, happy to see Ethan finally reciprocating more. "I know, I'll take care of you. I'll make it better." He breathes out, his cock throbbing in his underwear. Just seeing Ethan this desperate, humping against that pillow, digging his hips into it as if it could relieve any of the pain of rut. Heisenberg knows it won't, knows that the only way he can truly stop the feeling is to cum - even more relieving if it's inside someone else. Heisenberg's here to deliver.
He eases his pants down from his thighs, the hair of his legs moving with the fabric. Onward until he's done to just his underwear. A large, darkened spot of slick stains the fabric, but he doesn't pay it mind, instead pushing that to the floor, too.
"N-No," Ethan starts. As soon as he realizes he spoke, he flushes - it's hardly noticeable with how red he already is. "Can I..." He looks down to Heisenberg's shed underwear, but the older man already knows, throwing that on the bed, followed by all the other articles of clothing. Ethan almost stops thrusting for a moment to reach for them, but the moment he's not giving his prick attention, he's whimpering in pain and returning to it, unable to find reprieve for more than a few seconds without it.
Heisenberg slowly eases himself onto the foot of the bed, as far from Ethan as possible to give him the space he needs, and as Ethan continues to rut into the pillow, desperately trying to relieve the discomfort, Karl makes quick work of a nest - messy and sloppy and not at all composed, but sufficient for the time being. A few of his articles of clothing up by the headboard, slowly easing himself closer to Ethan in the process, carefully watching as he forces his defenses down, forces himself not to bare his teeth, and accepts that Heisenberg isn’t going to hurt him.
The older man finishes with a few of Ethan's clothes before he finally faces Ethan. The man looks like he's damn near about to pass out from heat exhaustion, sweating profusely, jaw open to breathe in what he can, eyes half-lidded, muscles trembling from exertion. His cock is unrelenting. When Heisenberg takes a closer look, he notices that there's a thick puddle of cum and pre spread across the fabric. He doesn't know how many times the man's already cum, but he knows one thing for certain. It's not enough.
The first brush of Heisenberg's hand over Ethan's back brings about a sharp recoil, Ethan gasping, shifting away from the touch. At first, the older man wants to move back, fearful that Ethan will actually try to bite. However, to his relief, after the intial shock, he's leaning back into the touch.
He's hot, Heisenberg notes as his bare hands run down his back - reddened flesh covered in sweat, searing and scorching. Heisenberg feels that same heat pool between his legs just from the smell of Ethan's neediness.
"That's it," Karl eases softly, a stark difference from the tone he normally uses with Ethan. This is the tone he uses with the Lycans in a particularly rough breeding season. This is the tone he uses with Rose. It's soft and gravelly, but above all else, it's comforting.
Ethan fists the pillow hard, his knuckles turning white as he bucks into the fabric. The friction is too much. It's not wet enough, not satisfying. He's dripping and leaking as if trying to wet each thrust, but it's doing nothing when the pillow does nothing but absorb it all.
"K-Karl..." Ethan starts, a whine edging his voice as he tries to grasp reality. He's straining, pushing back into the touch. His aggression, that fearful feral man, has left him. All he has now is neediness and carnal desire, raw and powerful in ways that Karl's long used to.
"I know, Papa," Heisenberg replies, shifting from the bed to lay down on his back, still keeping a steady hand on Ethan as he does so.
Ethan's eyes are on him like a hawk, steady and hungry - pupils blown wide with need, lips parted, tongue lulling against his bottom lip as he tastes the air and watches the other man get comfortable. His eyes drag across his body, taking in each detail from his scruffy hair, piercing blue eyes, always almost discomforting without his glasses on. His beard graying and peppered with white hairs. His gaze moves downward over Heisenberg's chest, the scars under each fatty pectoral, and finally down to the roll of his stomach, the happy trail leading between his legs.
When Heisenberg spreads his thighs, Ethan sighs, his eyes grow wider, needier. He swallows, rocking harder into the pillow as if it could do anything to simulate the feeling of actually being inside Heisenberg. It's nothing like it - Karl can tell he's thinking about it as his eyes land on the twitching t-dick between his folds, hooded by a thick layer of foreskin that covers the entirety of his length. He's pierced - because, of course, he is. A stark silver piercing against olive skin prods out between the thick curls of his pubes. And all the while, Ethan's watching like a dog waiting for a damn treat.
"What are you waiting for?" Heisenberg coaxes, humored by the lust in Ethan's eyes, the pure, raw need to fuck and breed and rut. It's something that Heisenberg's never seen out of the man before. He's been needy before, yes, mostly after extended teasing at Heisenberg's hand. But it's nothing compared to this. He looks as if he'll die if he doesn't have himself in Heeisenberg as soon as he can.
"I..." Ethan licks his dry lips and swallows down the drool gathering in his mouth. He still isn't moving, almost starstruck by the sight, as if he's fearful of taking it or like he has to restrain himself. He doesn't. Karl could take anything that Ethan wanted to dish out - he knows pain just as well as Ethan does, he knows hurt and discomfort just as Ethan does. It's not a new concept for either of them.
But still, Ethan isn't moving, and now Heisenberg is starting to get impatient.
He keeps a hand on Ethan's arm, stroking gently over the roughness of his skin while his other hand dips between his spread thighs. He cards his fingers through the darkened gray curls before he finally spreads himself with an index and a middle finger. The sound that comes with it is wet. Both of them hear it loud, even over the slow creaking of the bed of each helpless thrust Ethan presses into the pillow.
"I know you can do it, Ethan," Heisenberg coaxes, running his middle finger through the slick that's built up, starting to wetten the hair. He spreads it up across his cock, slicking the small length that's grown over the years of taking whatever testosterone supplements the Duke could bring in from the city.
Ethan still doesn't move; not at first, he starts to, but there's a hesitation there. Heisenberg can't tell from what - whether it's still his distrust of the situation or the fear of just how badly he needs it or... whatever else. But, the moment that Heisenberg speaks one last plea, charged with his own frustration of Ethan's hesitancy, a sharp, "Just fuck me already," Ethan's on it.
The blond shoves the pillow aside, scrambling between Heisenberg's legs and anchoring his hands to the man's thighs, dragging him down the bed for better access. Heisenberg grins up at him, eyes wide, excitement sharp in his gaze. "Attaboy."
"Fuck, Karl," Ethan gasps, pushing Heisenberg's thighs up to his chest. He wants to admire the man, wants to admire just how wet he gets from being around the scents he is now. He wants to take his time with it, drag his tongue through his folds and suck his dick and please him like he normally does, but he can't. Whatever part of him wanted to please Heisenberg is nothing more than a distant thought with how loudly the word breed echoes through his head.
Ethan trembles as he lines himself up, jerking his cock a couple of times just to ease the ache that's already accumulated, but that's all it takes before he's thrusting in, bottoming out in one quick movement.
Both of them moan at the intrusion, Karl's head tilting back into the pillow while Ethan groans above him, thighs nearly trembling with need. Ethan fills him up so perfectly, the fullness euphoric as if Karl were made to take him, just tight enough to grip but not enough to hurt. Ethan feels even larger than he normally is, but Heisenberg blames it on the rut.
Ethan's topped his fair share in the time they've lived together. He's no stranger to it. He knows how Heisenberg likes being roughed up and pushed around, he knows that the man isn't fragile, but he still holds some sort of resistance against himself as he kneels there, sharpened nails digging into Heisenberg's thighs, panting and breathing as if he could calm himself down with nothing more than relaxing breaths.
Heisenberg can't read Ethan's mind, can only watch as he rests there, squeezing the other man's thighs, cock drooling helplessly inside of Heisenberg, twitching and throbbing and begging for release. Karl can't jump into his head and rid him of his hesitation and whatever fear he holds. But, he can press his hand to Ethan's cheek, stroke it gently as the man looks down at him, panting, a nearly fearful look in his eyes.
"What's the hold-up?" Heisenberg coaxes, stroking his own sharpened nail over Ethan's cheek. He can feel the blond slowly rutting into him, gentle grinding reaching deep into spots that Heisenberg had prayed Ethan would be able to stimulate.
Ethan pants a few times. He's still overheating, so much sweatier than Heisenberg, drooling so much that he constantly has to swallow it down so that he doesn't spit as he speaks. "Don't... hhh… Don't like..." He breathes. Heisenberg's brows furrow deeper. "Can't control... Can't..." He breathes again, squeezing harder, surely drawing blood. Karl doesn't mind. Just continues to stroke Ethan's cheek and keep the pain from his face.
"Can't control yourself?" Heisenberg coaxes, trying to figure out what Ethan's going through, reflecting back to his own first rut. He'd been violent - hadn't had any sort of person or self-restraint to keep him on a leash. He'd remembered drawing blood from the Lycan he had pressed himself into and had nearly blacked out through the entire thing. When he'd come to, the creature had looked up at him with fear, whimpering and whining, fur stained with blood, trembling and shaking into the snow-covered flooring of the woods.
Ethan is better than Heisenberg in that he knows when to keep himself on that leash. He has the self-restraint to know better. He's fighting himself desperately, terrified of cracking because he doesn't know what will happen if he does.
Ethan swallows again, and exhales shakily. "Don't wanna... Ngh..." Ethan's eyes roll into the back of his head as he ruts in one more time, grinding hard into Heisenberg's wetness, overwhelmed with the sheer, fire-hot relief. “I don’t wanna hurt you…”
Heisenberg understands more than Ethan could know. He can feel himself clenching down on the other man, desperation, and desire at the forefront of his mind. Despite the fact that Ethan's looking down at him like he's fragile, he knows he's anything but. Whatever Ethan wants to dish out, Heisenberg is confident he'll take.
"You won't," Karl murmurs, wrapping his legs around Ethan, pulling him closer. "You underestimate me."
Ethan gasps, still panting, not convinced. Heisenberg doesn't know if there's anything he could truly do to convince Ethan. No amount of reassurance would ease that fear, that discomfort.
So, Heisenberg does the only thing he knows how to, he reminisces over his experiences with the Lycans and, pressing himself deep into Ethan's neck, his face curling against the sweat-slickened flesh, he licks across the skin, salt strong on his tongue. Ethan gasps, shudders against the smooth touch. And then Heisenberg bites. Hard.
Ethan doesn't whimper or cry out in pain. He doesn't ask what the hell Karl's doing. No, the only thing that comes from him, emanating deep in his throat like a rumbling engine, comes a snarl. His nails dig deep into Heisnberg's thighs, forcing them up against the man's chest, pushing his hips even deeper against the other man - and with Heisenberg still digging his teeth into the wound, blood dripping out from Ethan's flesh, red and hot, spilling across Heisenberg's tongue like honey, he finally, finally lets go.
What had been left of Ethan's composure disappears into a harsh, merciless, feral thing. He doesn't think. He doesn't speak. He simply acts.
Ethan pulls back, his cock soaked in Heisenberg's slick, thick, and translucent, and then he plunges back in, nearly folding the other man in half as he forces himself directly into his back wall, threatening to break in his cervix so he'll properly breed the other man. Karl doesn't mind, he groans in pain, but the pleasure is just as clear. Ethan pulls out once again, jagged and quick, and then he shoves himself right back in. There is no rhythm he tries to establish, his thrusts do not roll or curl as they normally do, but they jab and jerk like he doesn't care for anything but coming.
Heisenberg takes it, pulling his mouth from Ethan's neck to smile up at the other man, teeth stained red with blood, the white hairs of his beard pinkened by it. He licks his lips like a dog with meat, drinking in every last drop as if he were drunk on it. And he just lays there and takes it as Ethan cants his hips against Heisenberg, panting and growling and snarling, rabid and untamed. He looks at Heisenberg, but he doesn't see him.
The older man doesn't mind in the slightest. It's a stark contrast from the loving, gentle sex they often have, and if anything, feeling like an object, a thing under Ethan's gaze, is invigorating. It feels good in a strange way. He embraces it, his eyes rolling back. If his legs weren't being shoved up to his chest, essentially turning him into a makeshift fleshlight for Ethan's neediness, he'd be wrapping them around the other man's waist, urging him in deeper.
Heisenberg settles for wrapping thick arms around Ethan's back, nails digging into the pale expanse of his skin, sharpened claws against Ethan's shoulder blades, threatening to draw blood. He probably does, but neither of them says anything about it. Ethan groans out, grits his teeth, and fucks into Heisenberg harder, pressing with just the right angle for Heisenberg to be in total bliss.
"That's it, Papa," Heisenberg starts, his lips parted, mouth open so he can get a damn breath between the compression on his chest and how violently he's being fucked into the bed. Ethan's thighs slap hard against Heisenberg's with each thrust, and the bed creaks and screeches with each desperate bucking of Ethan's hips. And Karl takes it with much more vigor, much more enthusiasm than he ever has before. His eyes are glued to Ethan, admiring the darkness in his eyes, a strange sort of hollowness that Heisenberg's never admired from him before. His blond hair sticks to his face with sweat lengthened from his time spent here without a proper haircut. He pants and growls in ways that Heisenberg's never heard before, a deep guttural noise that emanates from somewhere in Ethan's chest. "Feel good?"
Ethan can't form the words to properly reply, but he responds positively, burying his face in Heisenberg's neck as he continues to put his entire body into each thrust, using every little bit of strength to satiate his instinct to properly breed his lover.
Karl notices it, and keeps one hand on Ethan's back, clinging to the skin, digging nails in just to cause pain and further ease Ethan along, but the other moves to the back of Ethan's head, stroking against his hair soft, almost caring. A strange comfort as Ethan's coaxed through such a strange experience.
"You feel good inside me," Karl continues, his own voice dropping an octave. "You gonna breed me? Fill me up with your cum?"
Ethan grunts, moving his hands from Heisenberg's thighs to under his back, pulling him even closer and rutting his hips desperately - from this angle, the thrusts are shallower, but Ethan's got Karl closer, bodies splayed against each other, touching every square inch of skin they can muster. Karl grunts, eyes rolling back. It doesn't feel nearly as good, but the closeness is satisfying. It's a good feeling.
The blond continues to pant against Heisenberg's skin, breathless and needy. His entire body trembles with need, muscles straining and clenching and cramping in some unhinged desperation for release. He huffs out gutturally with each breath - Heisenberg isn't sure if Ethan's even aware of it.
"Attaboy, c'mon, I know that's what you want. I know what you're thinking." Karl continues to muse, grinning against Ethan's ear from where he continues to speak. "Gonna fill me up full, right? Put a nice 'lil pup in me, fuck me full of your cum, make sure it takes..."
"Karl - " Ethan bites back, growing more breathless by the minute. His entire body strains with need and his thighs tremble. Heisenberg thinks he's getting close. The tells are there. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Go on," Heisenberg continues, "Fuck me full, you can do it." He pauses for just a moment, allowing the consistent schlicking sound of their bodies meeting, the consistent tired breaths, and desperate panting, the low warning growl from Ethan's chest, the satisfaction rumbling from Karl's. He thinks for a moment - he's always got something to say in the bedroom like this. Most of the time, it's a miss for Ethan, the other half, he takes a dive, and it works out.
"Make a daddy of me, would you?"
He takes the dive, and it works. Ethan cries out hard, and before Heisenberg knows it, the man is spilling inside of him. His knot catches once, then twice, and then he's stilling his hips as his cum, warm and white and slick spills into Heisenberg, right against his cervix, pushing as deep inside as it can. Heisenberg groans, leans his head back, and simply enjoys the feeling of being stuffed perfectly like that. Ethan's grunts turn to moans, almost whimpers, a high voice of relief like cool water splashing over his body, easing him from the extended heatwave of his rut. The entire time, as he grinds against Karl, easing every last drop inside, he speaks his name on repeat. A chant of Karl over and over again, vibrating against his neck with each spurt of cum that drips into him.
"That's it, Ethan," Heisenberg gasps, his hand coming down between his legs to toy with his own cock, index and middle on either side, stroking him gently through the sensation of the swelling knot, locking Ethan in place, keeping him stilled there. "That's it, Daddy."
Ethan whines again, another desperate thrust - but he doesn't have anything else to give Heisenberg. Not now. He just gasps breathlessly against his neck, dizzy with the comedown. Brainless. Numb. Foggy. Above all else, he's satisfied, satiated for the time being. Heisenberg keeps that one hand in Ethan's hair, gently stroking him, easing him through the intensity of the knot, and continuing to toy idly between his legs.
They lay there for a while, Ethan's breath slowing, the sweat slicking against their bodies feels disgusting in the aftermath, drying uncomfortably against their skin. The room is nothing more than a heat box, unhelped by the neighboring energy source of the factory and the Soldat production. Heisenberg's hot, sweating into the bed ruthlessly, but Ethan doesn't move, so neither does he. He just holds him as his knot, slowly but surely, deflates.
Heisenberg presses a gentle kiss to Ethan’s temple, speaks an, “I love you.”
Ethan grunts, and even through his sleepy haze, he manages to repeat it back, soft and gentle, and genuine.