Ah... That's right. He isn't the phoenix. You are. This... penchant for this cycle of self-destruction and atonement only serves to injure you. I had hoped that you had broken free in some way by taking a lover, but...
[He lets out a long sigh as he casts his eyes downward.]
But you continue to refuse to share your burden. How are you to help one another escape when you will not do even this? He wants... Nay, lusts after and demands control of you, of his environment, of himself under threat of self-collapse, yet it eludes him.
I had thought that he would perhaps be all too eager to learn how to do this! Especially since he has displayed his own anger and jealousy with our history and understanding.
[He lets his hands go slack to accommodate the sheer number of fuzzbugs clamoring for the warmth of his hands.]
I was worried that he would ill-suit you as a lover and a partner, and he has all but confirmed such for me. ...Yet you are free to do as you please. It is uncouth for a dead man to judge the living so.
[As he raises his voice, he cannot help but throw his cigarette holder onto the ground as he steps forward, gesturing widely with his arms.]
As you are—as every last being here is—you are living! No doubt once we return, should we return, if we return...you will resume your state of—[he falters, his hands, fingers flinching as he struggles with the word, but eventually forces it out as his hands ball into fists, his arms falling to his sides.]—unliving. Even so, you do have the right to voice your concerns, and I will hear them!
[Taking a moment, he closes his eyes, his breath a little shaky as he tries to resettle his mounting emotions. Once he feels adequately settled, he opens them once more and continues. His voice lower, less squeaky and strained.]
I...cannot say that it will steer me from my course, but well do you and I both know a man makes his best judgments when it is not only his voice guiding him. With that said, I believe your approach and your view point is fundamentally flawed.
You view my sacrifice—my suffering—as some childish notion that I would eventually outgrow. Like I am but an adolescent learning the laws of the world for the first time, but such wounds I do not endure from ignorance, quite the contrary. It is what's necessary to complete what must needs be done.
As for Dirk...he is to assist me in that which I need him for, which you incorrectly estimated. That is not on him, nor is it on me, that is your misjudgment.
[He stands, gently brushing the cutieflies from his hands until they resume floating in the air like so much pollen. He stands from his kneeling position and closes the distance between them. He presses his palms, still warm, to Hades' cheeks.]
My dearest friend, my lover and coconspirator... It is too plain to see that you are worn out. You are ground down like an instrument left to disrepair. This may very well be an inevitable consequence of your duty, so pray listen close.
If you continue unabated, you will be spent. You will break, and at that moment you will cry out, desperate to eke out any last shred of your soul and aether. Even death will not soothe the turbulence in your soul.
[He gazes into his eyes, brows furrowing with his smile dropped. He bends to press his forehead against Hades']
You will save no one, not even yourself, if allowed on this course. I beg of you to trust me.
[As Hythlodaeus approached, Hades watched with clear uncertainty in his eyes, his breath caught in his throat with anticipation of what was to come. Little did he expect those large, warm hands to cup his face so, to be held so gently, so lovingly. Yet, somehow the surprise melts away into knowing. That he should have expected otherwise was folly, and so just as swiftly as Hythlodaeus approached, did he submit to the familiar and comforting feel of him.
His words, however, stir far more conflicted emotions than he knows what to do with. The wary look behind his eyes, the hurt and torment of burden and isolation, the seclusion that has worn him down over the eons. All of it is so plain in his features, in how he leans into that touch, how when Hythlodaeus places his forehead against his own his hands reach out to curl into gentle fistfuls of Hythlodaeus' yukata. The shaky, needy grip that incriminates the fragility of his very being over such an arduous journey to fix that which was broken.
There is so much he wishes he could do in this moment, yet he is well aware that he cannot. Well aware of the self-imposed restrictions, and he's cursing himself for it, yet knowing it's necessary. All of it. Necessary. That's what he continues to tell himself, that's what continues to push him forward. His jaw tightens, and he swallows thickly, his throat feels dry, and his voice seemingly absent.
Yet, he still wills it into existence.]
...I have forgotten how. Or, perhaps, I never learned. Not truly. It has been a long path, my love. But should I lose momentum, should I stop even to lighten the load, I fear it will all be for naught.
I do not concern myself with my own peace, I am well beyond that, and should death's sweet embrace not quell the raging tempest in my soul, I well believe it worth the sacrifice to right the wrongs of antiquity.
You will have to forgive me, but I believe myself beyond the benefit of such respite.
This is why I ask for you to trust me. For I have not forgotten what you look like when you feel happy and free.
And it is not as if your duty is imaginary or unworthy, but it is far beyond what could ever be anticipated. Not a single soul in all of Amaurot would look you in the eye and demand nor expect this of you.
In their infinite kindness and understanding, their love and wisdom... They would say: rest, dear Hades. For you are a remarkable man, but you are still just one man.
[His hands shift, moving to hold him tight against his chest, his face buried in his hair. He’s lucky that Hades had tossed his cigarette: his need to hold him is so dire that he fears neither a singe to his clothes nor skin. ]
I have but one regret. I wish I had taken the title of Emet-Selch and spared you your suffering.
[His words stir such anguish in his heart, when maybe he should feel comfort. Yet, somehow he feels inadequate, when logically he knows his toils are far beyond what he ever could have foreseen. What any of them could have.
But he made a promise, made a vow, and he could not stand the thought of breaking it. Not unless...]
That is not your regret to harbor, that is not—there was no way you could have known.
[That Hythlodaeus would feel such a way, that he would feel responsible for his suffering...when Hythlodaeus stayed when Azem left, when he...
His words were muffled against Hythlodaeus' chest, and he does little to pull away from the comfort now, his grip tightening further as he bites back the burn in his eyes. The pain that twists his features into an anguished grimace.]
What would you have me do, Hythlodaeus? Scarce can I rest when I know there is much to be done, so much that needs to be corrected...this anguish in my bosom that torments me so, that has not faded even after the passing of eons, the hopes, the dreams, the wishes of those needing to be saved...
As you say, I am but one man, so what is my suffering in the face of countless lives that need to be saved? Of your life that could be saved?
My dear, I am already dead. I cannot be saved. Yet I would have you press us from your mind and live without responsibility for a while. I know you won’t forget, you cannot. But perhaps... attempt to forgive yourself this survivor’s guilt.
[He rubs his back, his other hand grasping his hair and cradling his head. ]
There is no way any of us could have known, for all of our cleverness. Spend your tears against my chest and empty your mind.
[He knows. He knows Hythlodaeus is dead and gone, but he could...restore his soul. He could...gift it with the memories lost, maybe...selfish as it may be to do such, yet.
He does not speak, does not utter a single word, instead he grips Hythlodaeus tightly, nestling his face against him. As bidden, he weeps against him, silently and with dignity. The dampness of Hythlodaeus' yukata and the light shake of his shoulders are all that implicate him.
How long has it been? When did he last have a moment to mourn all he has lost--has he ever? How ridiculous that a man who can recall everything else struggles to recall if he's ever had the selfish moment to grieve the loss that has spurred him mercilessly forward.
His words have abandoned him, and it's for all the better. He could not suffer the indignity of how piteous he would sound if he chose to speak at all in this moment. So, instead he stays in Hythlodaeus' hold, greedily taking in the comfort he's offering. Perhaps he can allow himself this one concession, for his heart yearns for it like a starving man might a meal otherwise denied him.]
[He dares not to release him from his grip, though he continues to shift his hands to rub his back and guide him down to sit in his lap as he folds his legs on the ground. He pulls him back ever so slightly, kissing his brow. He wipes away a few of his tears, though he knows that will do little to make them yield. Not that he wants that— This is sorely overdue as it is.]
We will find a way through this. Together. Do you trust me?
[He tucks Hades' head under his chin, gazing into nothing and breathing steadily.]
[How he moves is less like there is thought behind it, more like it's a matter of instinct and habit. To follow Hythlodaeus' gentle guidance and comforting lead, to rest upon his lap, to lean into his form. It's true, the tears are quick to replace those wiped away, like the many mortal lives lost in the restoration of something more permanent...
This feels. Right. As it should. As it was always meant to be, yet there is an ache that does not and will not quit, even now as he hears, feels, and thinks of Hythlodaeus. His breath far from steady, but he releases no whimper, no sound beyond the quaver of the breaths themselves.
That is, until he speaks. Barely above a whisper, strained like it itself was carrying the burden that has bowed his back for his ages, fragile like glass.]
Of course I do. I have always trusted you. I always will trust you...
I love you, Hades. I won't allow any force or circumstance in this universe to leave you alone again.
[He hates that it sounds like empty platitudes, though he does not waste his breath with such a thing. But there is little he can do about that in this moment. With any sour luck, Hades is too upset to scrutinize his words.]
...So please, rest. Allow me to carry your burden for a while and deliver you from this.
[He presses his spread fingers against his scalp, rubbing slow soothing circles against him.]
[The words are comforting, and were he not in the throes of his own emotions, he might have caught the deeper meaning behind that. Instead, he allows the warmth it brings to encompass him. To love and be loved...it seems like such a mundane thing, yet at times an unattainable need.
So, instead, he keeps his face tucked against Hythlodaeus, his eyes closed tightly as tears continue to trail down his cheeks. He's tempted to take Hythlodaeus' offer, but part of him resists it, a larger part of him that cannot abide by the idea of giving his burden to someone else. But for now, for this moment he can suffer it.
Leaning into those circles being rubbing into his scalp, he speaks softly.]
For now...for a time. But know I will not abandon my duty... I cannot, not fully...
Thank you, Hades. I know better than to expect that. [There's no bite to it, of course. It is simply the truth.] I merely wish to heal you, for a while.
[He releases a breath as he shifts his arms, Hades' only warning that he's about to move— And he holds firm, bringing Hades up with him as he stands.]
...You can cancel your plans today. Let me care for you.
[He gets a small nod, but then Hades' entire body goes rigid as he realizes what he's doing when his arms move. His expression goes from the soft expression of mourning, to stunned and flustered surprise, made all the more ridiculous by the redness of his face and the tears in his eyes as he stares at Hythlodaeus.
...but a moment later it softens, even though he might be trying to maintain that look of irritation. Yet, he finds himself resting his head against his shoulder, his forehead resting against Hythlodaeus' neck.]
Oh very well, if I must. You certainly seem adamant about it, and like me, unlikely to be persuaded from your path. Really, what choice do I have?
[...Right. The whole...reason he came to confront Hythlodaeus, he really has a talent for dodging things. Just like how Hades is going to dodge that question about the lullaby entirely. It has been some time since he's heard Hythlodaeus sing, and while he misses those dulcet tones of his, he cannot properly engage with the idea of Hythlodaeus singing him to sleep.
At least not at the moment. He wipes at his eyes, and audibly sniffs as he tries to further collect himself.]
...You did well to distract me from the topic, was that your aim? How underhanded...but yes. I will allow you to spoil me, and then we will speak of the matter you so expertly dodged, you knave.
It was not my aim, how silly it would be for me to bring it up again so soon if it were. My actions have purpose, have you gleaned it?
[ He slides open the door with his foot and brings him into the bathroom. He kneels seating Hades on his lap as he fussed with the tap. He sets the water nice and hot as he continues to hold Hades with one arm, bracing him as if he’s too precious to touch the ground.]
Perhaps I flatter you in assuming that you might have felt some measure of guilt in sidetracking the conversation, or maybe I am merely fooling myself into believing that aught you do could ever be uninvolved in an overarching scheme.
[As if he has room to talk, really. He feels ridiculous being held like this, and yet...he feels loved. Cared for, like his worth is not intrinsically tied to his capabilities and servitude to his people, but who he is to Hythlodaeus. Which has always been the case, but it certainly can be a difficult task to believe otherwise when for eons your toils have robbed you of such individualism.
As he watches the water, he goes to give Hythlodaeus a hand—after all he doesn't need to go into the bath in his house robe—yet he hesitates. Remembering the scar that adorns his body now, and he's not entirely certain what to make of it. What Hythlodaeus thinks of it...
So, instead, he continues on with the conversation, his hands resting on the front of his robe in a manner that does not suggest the comfort he'd like the gesture to be read as, but instead looks a little tense and awkward.]
I can only assume you wish to better understand Dirk to attempt to communicate with him better, ergo you will be better able to assuage my burdens, yes?
Of course, yet... I wanted you to be allowed space to feel your emotions. You’ve endured something terrible in your absence.
[ He places a hand over Hades’ and looks down at him as his hand slips beneath his robe, touching that scar tissue for the first time. He eases his robe open and traces it with his fingers. ]
To lessen your burdens and to ease my own mind, as well. To be forced to control myself as I have... I can only do so if I know that your needs are being met.
[Hades' breath catches in his throat as he feels Hythlodaeus' hand touch his scar, his heart pounding in his chest. Unconsciously, his jaw tightens as he feels every fiber of his being throb at the idea of Hythlodaeus meeting his needs, and with the emotional state he's in...
Wide, golden eyes flick up to meet Hythlodaeus' own, and there's a war of emotion behind them. However, after a few thoughtful blinks, his expression turns to something solemn and guilty.]
...I agreed to let you spoil me, but I did not agree to that. My needs are being met—well enough.
[Honestly, he has been with far worse lovers than Dirk, and for all Dirk might be reserved in some aspects, he cannot say that he is left wholly unsatisfied. Their relationship is still in its infancy, and Dirk is young yet. It'd be cruel to expect him to match up to Hythlodaeus—it'd be cruel to expect anyone to contend with Hythlodaeus in that regard.]
I am teaching him. But I am teaching him at my pace, not yours. If you wished for his learning to be expedited in such a fashion, mayhap you should have taken him into your bed, hm?!
[He sounds a bit exasperated, and maybe he is...especially with Hythlodaeus' too-warm hand on his chest, that heat seemingly transferring to his face as he stares at him in defiance and vexation...but there is a tinge of affection behind it.]
Probably some level of nsfw the rest of the way down
[What was going to be an indignant laugh turns into a surprised choke of a sound as Hythlodaeus so suddenly undoes his robe. Naturally he attempts to save face, trying to focus on the conversation, and not how exposed he feels. Of course it's not an unappealing feeling of exposure, but it is one that can become troublesome very quickly if he isn't careful.]
Is this your grand scheme? To bed him—so then by extension you may bed me?
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[He lets out a long sigh as he casts his eyes downward.]
But you continue to refuse to share your burden. How are you to help one another escape when you will not do even this? He wants... Nay, lusts after and demands control of you, of his environment, of himself under threat of self-collapse, yet it eludes him.
I had thought that he would perhaps be all too eager to learn how to do this! Especially since he has displayed his own anger and jealousy with our history and understanding.
[He lets his hands go slack to accommodate the sheer number of fuzzbugs clamoring for the warmth of his hands.]
I was worried that he would ill-suit you as a lover and a partner, and he has all but confirmed such for me. ...Yet you are free to do as you please. It is uncouth for a dead man to judge the living so.
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[As he raises his voice, he cannot help but throw his cigarette holder onto the ground as he steps forward, gesturing widely with his arms.]
As you are—as every last being here is—you are living! No doubt once we return, should we return, if we return...you will resume your state of—[he falters, his hands, fingers flinching as he struggles with the word, but eventually forces it out as his hands ball into fists, his arms falling to his sides.]—unliving. Even so, you do have the right to voice your concerns, and I will hear them!
[Taking a moment, he closes his eyes, his breath a little shaky as he tries to resettle his mounting emotions. Once he feels adequately settled, he opens them once more and continues. His voice lower, less squeaky and strained.]
I...cannot say that it will steer me from my course, but well do you and I both know a man makes his best judgments when it is not only his voice guiding him. With that said, I believe your approach and your view point is fundamentally flawed.
You view my sacrifice—my suffering—as some childish notion that I would eventually outgrow. Like I am but an adolescent learning the laws of the world for the first time, but such wounds I do not endure from ignorance, quite the contrary. It is what's necessary to complete what must needs be done.
As for Dirk...he is to assist me in that which I need him for, which you incorrectly estimated. That is not on him, nor is it on me, that is your misjudgment.
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My dearest friend, my lover and coconspirator... It is too plain to see that you are worn out. You are ground down like an instrument left to disrepair. This may very well be an inevitable consequence of your duty, so pray listen close.
If you continue unabated, you will be spent. You will break, and at that moment you will cry out, desperate to eke out any last shred of your soul and aether. Even death will not soothe the turbulence in your soul.
[He gazes into his eyes, brows furrowing with his smile dropped. He bends to press his forehead against Hades']
You will save no one, not even yourself, if allowed on this course. I beg of you to trust me.
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His words, however, stir far more conflicted emotions than he knows what to do with. The wary look behind his eyes, the hurt and torment of burden and isolation, the seclusion that has worn him down over the eons. All of it is so plain in his features, in how he leans into that touch, how when Hythlodaeus places his forehead against his own his hands reach out to curl into gentle fistfuls of Hythlodaeus' yukata. The shaky, needy grip that incriminates the fragility of his very being over such an arduous journey to fix that which was broken.
There is so much he wishes he could do in this moment, yet he is well aware that he cannot. Well aware of the self-imposed restrictions, and he's cursing himself for it, yet knowing it's necessary. All of it. Necessary. That's what he continues to tell himself, that's what continues to push him forward. His jaw tightens, and he swallows thickly, his throat feels dry, and his voice seemingly absent.
Yet, he still wills it into existence.]
...I have forgotten how. Or, perhaps, I never learned. Not truly. It has been a long path, my love. But should I lose momentum, should I stop even to lighten the load, I fear it will all be for naught.
I do not concern myself with my own peace, I am well beyond that, and should death's sweet embrace not quell the raging tempest in my soul, I well believe it worth the sacrifice to right the wrongs of antiquity.
You will have to forgive me, but I believe myself beyond the benefit of such respite.
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And it is not as if your duty is imaginary or unworthy, but it is far beyond what could ever be anticipated. Not a single soul in all of Amaurot would look you in the eye and demand nor expect this of you.
In their infinite kindness and understanding, their love and wisdom... They would say: rest, dear Hades. For you are a remarkable man, but you are still just one man.
[His hands shift, moving to hold him tight against his chest, his face buried in his hair. He’s lucky that Hades had tossed his cigarette: his need to hold him is so dire that he fears neither a singe to his clothes nor skin. ]
I have but one regret. I wish I had taken the title of Emet-Selch and spared you your suffering.
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But he made a promise, made a vow, and he could not stand the thought of breaking it. Not unless...]
That is not your regret to harbor, that is not—there was no way you could have known.
[That Hythlodaeus would feel such a way, that he would feel responsible for his suffering...when Hythlodaeus stayed when Azem left, when he...
His words were muffled against Hythlodaeus' chest, and he does little to pull away from the comfort now, his grip tightening further as he bites back the burn in his eyes. The pain that twists his features into an anguished grimace.]
What would you have me do, Hythlodaeus? Scarce can I rest when I know there is much to be done, so much that needs to be corrected...this anguish in my bosom that torments me so, that has not faded even after the passing of eons, the hopes, the dreams, the wishes of those needing to be saved...
As you say, I am but one man, so what is my suffering in the face of countless lives that need to be saved? Of your life that could be saved?
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[He rubs his back, his other hand grasping his hair and cradling his head. ]
There is no way any of us could have known, for all of our cleverness. Spend your tears against my chest and empty your mind.
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He does not speak, does not utter a single word, instead he grips Hythlodaeus tightly, nestling his face against him. As bidden, he weeps against him, silently and with dignity. The dampness of Hythlodaeus' yukata and the light shake of his shoulders are all that implicate him.
How long has it been? When did he last have a moment to mourn all he has lost--has he ever? How ridiculous that a man who can recall everything else struggles to recall if he's ever had the selfish moment to grieve the loss that has spurred him mercilessly forward.
His words have abandoned him, and it's for all the better. He could not suffer the indignity of how piteous he would sound if he chose to speak at all in this moment. So, instead he stays in Hythlodaeus' hold, greedily taking in the comfort he's offering. Perhaps he can allow himself this one concession, for his heart yearns for it like a starving man might a meal otherwise denied him.]
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We will find a way through this. Together. Do you trust me?
[He tucks Hades' head under his chin, gazing into nothing and breathing steadily.]
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This feels. Right. As it should. As it was always meant to be, yet there is an ache that does not and will not quit, even now as he hears, feels, and thinks of Hythlodaeus. His breath far from steady, but he releases no whimper, no sound beyond the quaver of the breaths themselves.
That is, until he speaks. Barely above a whisper, strained like it itself was carrying the burden that has bowed his back for his ages, fragile like glass.]
Of course I do. I have always trusted you. I always will trust you...
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[He hates that it sounds like empty platitudes, though he does not waste his breath with such a thing. But there is little he can do about that in this moment. With any sour luck, Hades is too upset to scrutinize his words.]
...So please, rest. Allow me to carry your burden for a while and deliver you from this.
[He presses his spread fingers against his scalp, rubbing slow soothing circles against him.]
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So, instead, he keeps his face tucked against Hythlodaeus, his eyes closed tightly as tears continue to trail down his cheeks. He's tempted to take Hythlodaeus' offer, but part of him resists it, a larger part of him that cannot abide by the idea of giving his burden to someone else. But for now, for this moment he can suffer it.
Leaning into those circles being rubbing into his scalp, he speaks softly.]
For now...for a time. But know I will not abandon my duty... I cannot, not fully...
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[He releases a breath as he shifts his arms, Hades' only warning that he's about to move— And he holds firm, bringing Hades up with him as he stands.]
...You can cancel your plans today. Let me care for you.
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...but a moment later it softens, even though he might be trying to maintain that look of irritation. Yet, he finds himself resting his head against his shoulder, his forehead resting against Hythlodaeus' neck.]
Oh very well, if I must. You certainly seem adamant about it, and like me, unlikely to be persuaded from your path. Really, what choice do I have?
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I’ll draw a bath for you and rub your shoulders. Perhaps... even a lullaby. How long has it been since I’ve sung for you?
...And when you are ready, we will discuss your little boyfriend. I will need you to help me understand him.
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At least not at the moment. He wipes at his eyes, and audibly sniffs as he tries to further collect himself.]
...You did well to distract me from the topic, was that your aim? How underhanded...but yes. I will allow you to spoil me, and then we will speak of the matter you so expertly dodged, you knave.
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[ He slides open the door with his foot and brings him into the bathroom. He kneels seating Hades on his lap as he fussed with the tap. He sets the water nice and hot as he continues to hold Hades with one arm, bracing him as if he’s too precious to touch the ground.]
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[As if he has room to talk, really. He feels ridiculous being held like this, and yet...he feels loved. Cared for, like his worth is not intrinsically tied to his capabilities and servitude to his people, but who he is to Hythlodaeus. Which has always been the case, but it certainly can be a difficult task to believe otherwise when for eons your toils have robbed you of such individualism.
As he watches the water, he goes to give Hythlodaeus a hand—after all he doesn't need to go into the bath in his house robe—yet he hesitates. Remembering the scar that adorns his body now, and he's not entirely certain what to make of it. What Hythlodaeus thinks of it...
So, instead, he continues on with the conversation, his hands resting on the front of his robe in a manner that does not suggest the comfort he'd like the gesture to be read as, but instead looks a little tense and awkward.]
I can only assume you wish to better understand Dirk to attempt to communicate with him better, ergo you will be better able to assuage my burdens, yes?
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[ He places a hand over Hades’ and looks down at him as his hand slips beneath his robe, touching that scar tissue for the first time. He eases his robe open and traces it with his fingers. ]
To lessen your burdens and to ease my own mind, as well. To be forced to control myself as I have... I can only do so if I know that your needs are being met.
uh nsfw topics
Wide, golden eyes flick up to meet Hythlodaeus' own, and there's a war of emotion behind them. However, after a few thoughtful blinks, his expression turns to something solemn and guilty.]
...I agreed to let you spoil me, but I did not agree to that. My needs are being met—well enough.
[Honestly, he has been with far worse lovers than Dirk, and for all Dirk might be reserved in some aspects, he cannot say that he is left wholly unsatisfied. Their relationship is still in its infancy, and Dirk is young yet. It'd be cruel to expect him to match up to Hythlodaeus—it'd be cruel to expect anyone to contend with Hythlodaeus in that regard.]
uh nsfw topics
I must insist that you impress upon him how lucky he is to have a lover such as you.
...And it is your duty, as the older man, to teach him how to please you as I did to you so long ago.
[ Otherwise he would have to take him back. Since, really. He might not have a soul, but he was now confident that he was a better fit. ]
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I am teaching him. But I am teaching him at my pace, not yours. If you wished for his learning to be expedited in such a fashion, mayhap you should have taken him into your bed, hm?!
[He sounds a bit exasperated, and maybe he is...especially with Hythlodaeus' too-warm hand on his chest, that heat seemingly transferring to his face as he stares at him in defiance and vexation...but there is a tinge of affection behind it.]
Probably some level of nsfw the rest of the way down
[ His hand slides down to the sash and he pulls it open unbidden. ]
It would be more appropriate for him to learn from me, wouldn’t it? We prefer the same role.
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Is this your grand scheme? To bed him—so then by extension you may bed me?
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[A smug smile works its way onto his face as he shamelessly tugs his underwear off his hips. But he behaves himself otherwise as he said he would. ]
How beautiful is he, fully undressed?
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