Grouse Thicket drinking at a playground, tequila for one

Being as mercilessly lost in the midst of this trip, all senses blended into one, Bruges' normal ego had no way to work its way into the situation. Oddly enough, Bruges was much more sincere when he was under the influence of something- as though he forgot about all the douchbagerie that he'd developed over time. The drugs took him back to some sort of primal form, which was surprisingly more docile and tender than sober Bruges was, fortunately for Ceara. In this state, all semblance of pride was forgotten, and he truely was completely invested in his current company. 

Once given permission, he gave into his urges, and with all the care and devotion in the world he tended to his companion with an urgent but gentle touch. He tended to her, carefully and slowly, tuned into the little nuances of her movements and sounds, flexing his experience to its fullest. Passion spun them together like threads of gold and ebony, until it finally released them against the ground, where he lay by her side, his breath heavy but steady. Still, he couldn't take his eyes off her, enthralled completely by the image of the fiery beauty he had managed to possess even for just one day.