**Interlude 19 - Strive to see the beauty that inhabits the wretched beasts of the earth

Émile was quivering with the impatient desire of a hunting dog expectantly waiting its signal at his feet and the suspense of Fabien's pleased inspection of them was almost too much to bear. His breathless praise coaxed heat to rise and redden their bruised neck, and their dark brows to knit together in a scowl as though the words had stung needle-sharp against flushed skin.

For a moment, the shape of a scathing retort lingered in their mouth. It was bitter relief when the press of his fingers against their lips forced it to die in their throat.

There was tension in their jaw at the presumptive sweep of his fingers as though with the urge to bite, the imagined satisfaction of shattering his self-congratulatory manner in a single swift motion clearly slithering through their head. They panted, gasping, when his fingers slipped deep against the back of their tongue and they sucked him desperately, the points of their teeth pressing sharp against his knuckles. The tips of his fingers stroking across the raised scar at their scalp coaxed their skin to rise in shivers. Their tongue slipped into the delicate hollow between his fingers and when he removed them from their mouth, they were slick and glistening.

Émile did not require guidance. Eager though they were, they were not ungainly as they were finally, blessedly released to their work. They were not clumsy with want, did not fumble hotly, but instead took him into the wet heat of their exquisite mouth with perfect, devilish poise when bid.

If Fabien still concerned himself with thoughts of Hell, the sinful silk of their lips sucking him onto their yielding tongue would surely convince him this was worth the lake of fire.

They lifted a hand to steady themself against his thigh as they worked the head of his cock with shallow thrusts. Their lips caught just enough to provide delicious friction against the ridged skin as they tongued the salt of his arousal from his slit.

Contemptuous anger still haunted the patrician delicacy of their features, but the alchemy of his blunt desire had transformed heat to hunger, willfulness to want, wolf to hound. Their nipples were stiff beneath the soft cotton of their shirt, their own arousal aching plainly from between their thighs as they sucked him.

They rolled the soft moss of their green eyes up to him as they took him deeper, sliding him along the slick length of their soft tongue, their lips pressing wickedly around his shaft as they took the length of him into their mouth. He hit the back of their throat and they choked becomingly, lifting on their knees and straightening their spine to accommodate him. As though keenly aware of being watched, they rolled their head to the side to ensure his view of their lips stretched around him, their nose almost pressed to his pelvis.

There were no more mocking insults or churlish protests with the sweet venom of their tongue occupied in pleasing him - only the panting of their breath through their nose and their soft, short groans as they took him.

Fabien's breath whined at the back of his throat as they took him into their mouth. His head bowed towards the wall, and he smothered a fresh string of expletives into the back of his palm.

The boy's cock twitched and shivered against his pet's artful tongue. He had been hard before, but the sensation of them curling hot and wet across his sensitive nerves had him achingly so.

"T-that's good, Émile." He praised, his voice made tender by pleasure.

The urchin's eyes had briefly closed, but they returned to watch Émile with torturous interest. The sight of their beautiful mouth wrapped around his aroused skin caused him to waver on the spot. His hand continued to caress their hair, the rough pads of his fingers stroked dotingly over their scarred skin.

His hand slipped from their hair as he bent over them. The boy was careful not to interrupt their work as he caressed their bruised throat.

"Ahh - une si bonne pute." He rasped lovingly.

The boy's coarse palm slipped over the curve of their collarbone, and disappeared beneath their shirt. His thumb circled first then brushed over the firm, sensitive skin of their nipple.

"I like hearing you choke on me." He murmured breathlessly.

The urchin was struggling not to writhe against them. His hips had begun to respond in slow, firm thrusts into the silken depths of their mouth. His hand slid across the soft skin of Émile's chest. He pinched their other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, hard enough to draw a winced breath.

His thrusts into them had grown sharper, his panting breath turned to low groans as he found a pleasing rhythm against their tongue. In truth, they nearly had the boy whimpering in senseless pleasure. But he managed, at least for now, to stifle his cries against his clenched hand.

If he did not break from them soon, no doubt they would bring him to satisfaction there against the kitchen wall.

Émile eased into an experienced rhythm with the stirring of Fabien's hips. The length of him glistened as they pulled back to suck the smooth skin of his tip, their tongue lapping teasingly on the swollen skin that rocked into their mouth. Their cheekbones were elegantly sharp where their cheeks pressed in as they sucked him, their lips silky and wet when they pressed him between them. The soft green of their eyes was concealed beneath the luxurious spread of their dark lashes.

His rough praise drew heat to colour their features and the delicate tips of their ears glimpsed through inky strands of dark hair turned a pleasing seashell pink. The wet sounds of their mouth on him were punctuated by short, low moans pulled from their chest.

They shivered and fell still as his hand stroked the aching skin of their bruised throat, their mouth soft and slack around him. With his hand around their neck they gently, carefully, took him deeper, until he could feel the flex of their throat stretching around him.

His thumb brushing over their sensitive nipple made their mouth water and he could feel immediately how it broke their focus. His desire to hear them choke promptly came to fruition as his fingers tweaking the tight skin of their nipple sent a jolt through their body, their sharp whimper interrupted as they thrust him too deep along their tongue. The soft sound they made as they choked was as pretty as their whimper. Their mouth tightened and their teeth delicately grazed the skin of his cock as they panted, their practiced poise momentarily disrupted as he stroked them.

Their hips rocked mindlessly against nothing, the aching skin between their thighs eager for his hand beneath their shirt. The black they had so carefully applied had smeared in smoky streaks beneath the liquid green of their eyes. The side of their face was red and raw where he had struck them, the raised welts creeping across the corner of their filled mouth.

As his hips thrust deeper into the waiting heat of their wet mouth, they greedily opened up to him. Their eyes lifted to his as the hand that was not helping them balance on his thigh rose to wrap skillfully around him, firm palm stroking against slick skin in time with their godless mouth. They slid the head of his cock along the whole of their tongue, taking him deeper and deeper with wanton, shivering need as he rocked into the wet heat of their exquisite mouth.

Fabien's body was as taut and quivering as a plucked string. If at first he had thrust into their mouth with purpose, now he was helpless to do much else.

His panting breath was still suppressed against the back of his hand. When Émile took him so deeply into their throat, his chin arched and they had him moaning in raw and unrestrained pleasure.

The boy's thighs were trembling against them. The pumping of his hips, first slow and languorous, had hastened in necessity. The exquisite pressure and heat of their mouth, the sound of them moaning and struggling around him, almost brought the boy to tears of want.

His thumb and fingers brushed again over their nipples, stroking the soft skin of their chest. This time slow and sensuous, somehow in rhythm with the rolling of his hips. But this time with care, as though he could feel their response deep within his own nerves.

When their hand claimed him, the boy's movements grew sharper still. They were sure to feel it, the pleasure rising within him, the whined breath that grew more desperate.

And then his hand was beneath their jaw, rope scarred skin against their cheek. He was dislodging himself, somehow, un-plucking their fingers from around the base of his cock.

"S-stop, ah." He gasped, like one in pain.

"Up, up, on your feet." The urchin urged, his voice gentle despite the ferocity of his want.

He hastened them with firm hands, pulled them to his chest. His hands seemed everywhere, his mouth suddenly on theirs, their jaw held firm between his rough palms. His tongue seeking entry past their teeth to taste himself deep on their tongue. He was moaning against them, as if their lips were still on him.

"I need to have you." He breathed. His mouth had moved to their throat, kissing and sucking the soft skin he had bruised. His teeth grazed their neck, just enough to cause a wince of anticipation. But this time, he did not bite them.

As he spoke his hands were on their waist, frantically loosening fabric and pulling apart cloth so he could get access to their pale skin. His aroused flesh, still hot and wet from their mouth, pressed into their hips.

He grew irritable at the fussiness of their attire, and turned them sharply to crush their chest into the wall. His hands were on the small of their back, his cock pressed against their ass.

Fabien continued to erode Émile’s focus with the brush of his fingers across the tight skin of their nipples. He was sure to feel it in the short, stifled moans that buzzed through his skin.

They sucked him lazily, sliding the head of his cock along their wet tongue without much finesse as he thrust desperately into their open mouth. The soft green of their eyes was visible only in a sliver beneath their dark lashes, their hips rolling in time with his as they hastened his pleasure between experienced palm and beautiful mouth.

They were disinclined at first to be dislodged from their work, but his hand at the tender purple bruises of their throat and the urgency of his gasped command made them falter. The wet heat of their mouth pulled reluctantly away, a delicate string of silvery fluid trailing from their parted lips as they looked up to him with glazed eyes. Their disheveled hair had fallen messily over their scar and it softened their delicate features.

Émile was biddable, easily persuaded to rise on aching legs and into his waiting arms. They were slow to adapt, their body soft and yielding beneath his grasping hands. There was salt on the inside of their teeth and they groaned softly into his mouth when his tongue found it.

They lifted their chin to allow him access to their throat. It was difficult to say whether it was his teeth grazing bruised and aching skin or the words he breathed hot into their throat that made them shiver against him.

When they were pushed against the wall their cheek pressed flat against the unyielding surface and they instinctively reached out with palms flat to not hit their nose. The insistent press of his aroused skin against their ass drew a hot gasp from their chest and they were immediately stirred into action.

“Attends, attends,” they muttered irritably under their breath, their voice as impatient as their hands as they hurriedly unfastened their clothes with practiced fingers.

Their shirt went slack around their collar, exposing the smooth skin at the base of their neck as they struggled to wriggle free of the clothing around their waist. The crushing press of his eager hands and the hungry rocking of their hips into the heat of his body delayed their progress, but soon enough they slipped the fabric free, tugging it down to their thighs to uncover the swell of their ass to him. Goosebumps rose in pebbles across their smooth skin as they arched their back beneath his hands, thrusting impatiently back against him.

As soon as their skin was revealed to him, Fabien's mouth was upon it. His breath panting hot at the back of their neck, his lips brushing across the softness of their skin. Had he not been so preoccupied with their body, their willingness might have enticed a smile to his mouth.

The sight of Émile disrobing so readily for him caused the urchin's breath to deepen. His hands grew still, though they did not drift far. He could not resist hiking their shirt up to expose the graceful arch of their back.

The boy's coarse palm glided over the smooth skin of their ass. His hands on them turned admiringly gentle. His fingers  tightened around their shapely hip, and the youth roughly jostled them into a more pleasing position.

Fabien did not have the patience to tease nor torment himself. He took the throbbing head of his cock, hard and slick from their mouth, and pressed it against their opening. He sank into them relentlessly, and did not stop until they had taken him fully.

He paused, quivering, buried deep inside of them.

"T-tu ne devrais pas être aussi serré. Always it … surprises me." He rasped. His lips brushed the shell of their ear as he spoke.

The boy's hands found their waist, and gripped them. His fingers were firm enough to leave further bruises on their pale skin.

"N-not that ...ah, I am complaining." He continued, his breath moaning as he slowly and indulgently eased himself out.

He continued this way, his hands on their waist to pull them against him as he moved in slow, deep thrusts. He rose to meet the grind of their body, though frustratingly slow, not yet fast enough to give them what they both needed.

"You are being very good, Émile." He encouraged gently.

His hand released their waist, and claimed the underside of their neck. The pressure on their throat was firm, painful only when it pressed on aching bruises.

"I am pleased with you." The boy praised.

His voice was rich and warm with affection, undeniably sincere.

As he spoke, his hips began to move with more vigor, and his pace finally increased. Soon he was pumping into them rough and hard, his hand tight on their throat to hold them exactly where he desired. The sounds of him taking his pleasure from them coloured the empty kitchen. The wet thrust of him into their body, the boy's breath groaning at the back of their neck.

Wherever his mouth pressed hungry kisses into the elegant curve of their neck, Émile’s pale skin was hot. They were ready for him, tense with their eager anticipation of having him, the swell of their ass grinding hard against the skin they had made firm and twitching. They braced themself on the balls of their feet as he pressed the head of his cock into them, reflexively lifting their hips to assist.

Their mouth had left him slick and he sank without effort into the tight heat of their body as though they were made to hold him there. They groaned, the soft sound the only indication of what it cost them to take all of him. He could feel the delicate flex of their ribs expand as they breathed, carefully, their exhale a soft whine in their throat, and he found when he rolled back into them he had no trouble sinking deep into the delicious heat of their trembling body.

His observation sparked a flare of something hot to judder through them, but if it was indignant anger they certainly could not voice it - there was no denying the tight, slick fit of his cock in their insides. Their venomous tongue stayed locked behind their clenched teeth.

They had braced their forearms against the wall to arch their back and there was beauty in their slender hips and the long curve of their spine. They were needy, rolling impatiently against him in a rhythm quicker than his own, but like a dog brought up short by a chain his hand on their hip prevented them from the leverage they sought and they pettishly abided by his teasing tempo, panting with their head framed between their arms.

He could feel the electric shiver of pleasure in how they clenched around him as he took their purpled throat, their breath vibrating huskily through the bruised skin he held in his palm. His crushing grip on their waist was met with a hot pant of approval and they dutifully yielded to his corrections, arching their back and lifting their ass up to meet him.

His warm praise and the rough pumping of his hips into them snapped something in them like piano wire stretched too taut.

They did not passively wait for him but gave as good as they got, their thighs tense as they forcefully met his hips. Bare toes curled to grip the floor as they rocked hungrily back into him, forcing him deeper, harder until skin slapped skin. Their silken skin had heated to pooling wax. The thin, soft fabric of their shirt clung damply to their shoulder blades where a fine sheen glistened, their skin hot and their dedication to their exertion single-minded as they thrust back hard. There was no disguising the short, almost growling moans he drove from them with each thrust deep into the aching heat of their body.

As his lips dragged along the nape of their neck they twisted to offer their mouth, whorish, over their shoulder, their eyes closed as though that made it any less apparent how they begged for his tongue.

Fabien’s long palm slid along the length of their sweat slick spine with delight. He caressed the delicious bend of their back, felt along the quiver of their ribs as he moved inside them. The urchin’s grip on Émile's throat tensed at their enthusiastic response, and the boy’s breath caught in his throat.

The forceful rocking of the urchin's hips slowed, and he allowed his pet to work over him with the tight heat of their body. He inclined back just enough so that he could watch the thrusting of their hips over his hard skin, but not enough to loosen his grip on their throat. His heart was in his throat, open mouthed and panting and barely able to contain his pleasure with them.

"Ah- oui, that's right. Very good. Take me." He encouraged gently, as his thumb gently caressed the underside of their jaw.  "My beautiful Émile."

His pet was immediately rewarded by the strike of his hand. His palm slapped the side of their ass with unexpected sharpness. There was more affection than cruelty in the whiplash of his hand, but it was no less strong enough to unsteady them. His palm stroked freshly reddened skin, and his thrusts into their body grew swift and hard.

Émile was not left to wait long, though the sight of them offering  their mouth to him caused the boy’s hands to tremble. The urchin claimed it. He kissed them with an unrestrained hunger, sucking on their lower lip, the point of their tongue as he rocked into them with unrelenting force. Soon his entire body was quivering, rising again to meet the heat that they had coaxed with their mouth and tongue. He became lost in the swirl of wet mouth and hot skin, groaning against their lips as his fingers created fresh bruises in the plush flesh of their hip.

His hand stroked their throat as he held them, desperate to feel them moaning against his palm.

“You ah - f-feel so good.” The boy managed to rasp, with breath shivering against their cheek.

The pumping of the urchin’s hips grew more rough, more sharp and precise in what they wanted of them, until he was almost breathless with exertion. The muscles of his sharp body felt taut against them, his brow molten hot and glistening with sweat as he pressed his open mouth back against Émile’s.

“I am… c-close… going to come inside you.” He gasped.

“Tell me you want it.” The words were more a plea than an instruction.

Fabien’s hand slipped up Émile’s chest, his fingers splayed as he held them against him while he thrust inside them. He kissed the side of their mouth as he drove deep into the body, until he could scarcely take it.

It was nearly a pity they had no audience. Émile’s performance was surely worthy of a stage, a spotlight, and the satiny petals of fragrant roses crushed beneath their bare feet as they arched their back, the shadows accentuating the roundness of their thighs and the curve of the shapely ass they pressed against him. When his thrusts slowed they zealously picked up the slack, arms braced on the wall for support as they worked him over.

They shuddered as though his affectionate words caused them some private agony, the soft green of their eyes only a thin sliver between dark lashes as they fucked him with shameless, naked hunger.

The sound of his palm striking their soft flank made their muscles clench and they groaned in a sharp, panting whine of eager approval. They rocked forward unsteadily, choking on the hand cradling their throat. Their mouth was hot and wet and impatient for his. They could not conceal how his hand coaxing bruises from their skin made their breath catch, nor the soft whimper they made as he sucked on their tongue.

Émile was slow to find their voice and there was at first silence filled only with the sound of their unthinking moans and skin on skin as he drove into them.

"I, ah-" They gasped against his mouth as he thrust sharply into the tight heat of their body. He could feel how they were trembling, the tight muscles of their legs shivering like a spring lamb's when their weight shifted.

"Je le veux." What fierce delight there was in hearing their voice stripped of airy disdain, made hoarse and hot and hungry.

"Fuck me, come - ah, inside, fill me." Now that they had begun they couldn't stop and the words spilled in a hot rush from their lips, each syllable punctuated by a sharp roll of their pelvis, grinding him deep inside them. The words resonated gravelly against the palm of his hand.

They panted, catching the thin slither of breath they could with his hand around their throat, though they did not stop thrusting against him, the rocking of their hips shallow and fast. When his mouth returned to theirs they eagerly claimed it. Their teeth caught his lower lip with a pinprick of pain.

"Fuck me," they demanded again, their breath hot in his mouth. The suggestion of a whine haunted their fevered words. "I want you to-” They broke off, panting. The crimson binding their wrist was wound-dark above their head.

“Make me belong to you,” they concluded in a rasping growl against his mouth.

It was difficult to determine whether Fabien quite understood the words he had just extracted from his pet’s beautifully shaped lips. There was a slight hitch in his breath, a widening of his heavy eyelids as he looked at them, fully, for a breath or two. He did not taunt them with smoky amusement, nor smirk against their mouth as he fucked them. He responded with a low, groaning breath as he simply gave them what they had so sweetly asked for.

The urchin’s hand possessively squeezed the side of Émile’s throat. He did not choke the air from them, but held their swan neck with a comforting firmness and control. He moved hot and molten inside them, the pulsing of his hips swift and trembling as he veered ever closer to the edge of his restraint. His hand reclaimed the soft curve of their hip with an overly intimate familiarity, as though they had always been his, and been used by him in just this way.

Held just so, the boy kissed them deep and hungrily, as he took them. He came inside them with a shudder so great it unsteadied his feet. The sound of his blissful, moaning cries were smothered against their tongue, pressed into their teeth as he gave way hard inside their body. He continued to pant against their lips, his breath almost whimpering at the back of his throat as the muscles of his spine grew slack and his body turned supple with release.

The boy’s hand slithered from their bruised hip, up the length of their body until he found their wrist. He stroked the soft skin where the binding rubbed against them with fierce delight.

“ah - Émile.” He almost groaned breathlessly. “How pleased I am. Such... a good pet.”

The youth was left dazed. His vision was swimming as he pressed small, affectionate kisses against the side of his pet’s beautiful mouth as he stroked their wrist. The warm grip of his hand around their throat unbuckled, as he slid wet from inside them with a shiver from nerves which responded electric to the slightest movement. Sweat had plastered his shirt against his back, and his golden hair clung to the sharp curve of his cheekbones.

The boy’s thumb brushed beneath the curve of their beautifully shaped eye, smearing the once meticulously applied makeup in a pleasing streak. He did not withdraw his hands as he assessed them carefully. His arms remained in place and ready to stabilize them against his gasping chest.

Fabien was gentle and attentive as he allowed them a moment to regain their breath, unable to disguise the affection that had now made his feline-sharp eyes soft as butter. With one hand moved to unpick the buttons of his shirt, and pull it from his glistening shoulders. With his hand still in position to support Émile, he carefully wiped clean wet gleam of his spent pleasure from their trembling thighs.

The firm constraint of Fabien’s hand around their graceful neck was sweet relief and Émile pressed appreciatively against the reassuring restriction. They did not linger on the fevered words he had drawn from them. He could feel their panting, moaned breath vibrating through the delicate skin of their throat as he took them.

Their palm covered the hand that held their hip and squeezed it tightly as he thrust deep and stilled inside. They shuddered at the liquid heat of his release filling their insides, their breath a low groan. They kissed his mouth, sucked on the tip of his tongue, nascent devotion exposed in their desperation to taste him as they rocked teasingly against his raw nerves.

It was difficult to say if it was his husky praise or his throbbing inside them that encouraged their moaning breath as he stroked their skin.

They pressed their warm body longingly into him, arching their back with feline reluctance to be abandoned, and it seemed they wouldn’t let him pull away. A thin whimper crept from their throat as he left them achingly empty.

Émile was sullied, trembling like a wounded animal beneath their hastily disheveled clothes, but their skin still gleamed bright and beautiful as the snap of white teeth in the dark, the elegant curve of their spine like the coil of a feathery tail.

They met his gaze as he smeared the black beneath their eyes. They watched him watch them, acutely aware of the marks of him writ on their body - the corner of their beautiful mouth blushing red from his hand, wine-dark bruises spilling across the soft skin of their hips, the slick gleam between their trembling thighs - but this was too much and they turned their head aside, dark hair obscuring their gaze. Even their steamy skin smelled of him as they fruitlessly tried to regain their breath.

They flinched from his gentle touch but did not resist as he patted them clean. They were still panting, their chest rising quickly. All their limbs were taken with trembling and they sagged heavily against the wall, relying on Fabien’s attentive arm for support.

When he was done they carefully eased their clothes back over bare skin, though the defensive barrier of thin fabric did little to make them decent. The shiver in their calves increased to a convulsive shudder when they experimentally shifted their weight and they leaned resignedly back against the wall, conceding defeat with a hoarse breath. It was clear they would not be walking.

They did not meet his eyes and there was quiet dismissal in their demeanor, as though to suggest their business was concluded.

Fabien's breath was ragged in his throat, and his limbs trembled gently against Émile's back. The urchin's hands were soft as he brushed them clean, and the back of his fingers stroked across his pet's bruised skin.

The boy allowed them to dress without interference. His hands drifted away, the warmth of his body retreating like sunlight behind a cloud. His shirt was tucked against his hip as the boy also shrugged his clothing back into place.

It seemed then, like Émile would be left to their own devices. The boy was finished with them, and having got what he wanted, would slink away like a satisfied fox. But no sooner had Émile dressed, the youth's hands were upon them.

"Come, then." He sighed, as he pulled them back into his chest. "Can you walk, hm?" The boy's feline sharp eyes assessed them carefully, and the decision was made regardless of Émile's answer.

Regardless of protests or complaints, the boy's pet was at once lifted from their feet and into Fabien's arms. It was effortless, made simple from their flagging energy and shorter frame. He held them as one might carry a partner to a bridal suit, firm and intimate against his sweat dampened skin. He was all firm muscle and bone, a foundation of hard strength built from a life on the streets.

The boy could not resist pressing his mouth to Émile's jaw in an affectionate kiss.

"You are not leaving my bed empty a second time, Émile." He murmured against their skin.

He took them from the kitchen, away from any hope of quiet and isolation. The door to his room remained open as he had left it, and the room was softly illuminated by candlelight. His rumpled sheets and the faint scent of sweet tobacco in the air was warm and inviting.

The urchin carefully lay Émile to rest on his bed, and placed a pillow beneath their head with almost breathless tenderness. He turned from them to close the door with inescapable finality. The boy released a soft sigh, and ran his fingers through his tangled hair.

"We may as well make you comfortable, non?" He said gently, as a crooked smile tugged at his mouth.

He returned to the bed and sat beside them. Émile's clothes were still confounding, but in their loosened state he was able to rid them of a few irritating articles. Enough at least, so they might rest comfortably and unrestricted. When satisfied, the youth slid into the sheets beside them to claim his spoils.

He pulled Émile close against his chest, and with two fingers swept a few strands of inky hair away from their exquisite eyes. He appeared, by all accounts, wearily joyous. Though it was clear from his heavy lidded inspection of their beautiful features, that he would not remain awake for long.

Émile’s gaze was pointedly downcast, their mouth set in a willful line as they quietly waited for him to be finished with them. When Fabien’s heat drew away their shoulders softened, breath still coming rapidly through parted lips as they shivered, sagging against the wall. The corner of their mouth had darkened in prophesy of an impending bruise that would no doubt complement the purple splashed across the front of their throat.

They stiffened when he pulled them close and a shudder of hot indignation shot through them as he made to lift them. The rich green of their eyes met his and they were hard and angry, wounded as though his hands on them were grievous betrayal.

“Don’t-” they began in a snarl, their body petulantly growing heavy as a stone.

There wasn’t the strength in their worn out limbs to resist but they pushed defiantly against him, one bare sole slipping fruitlessly on the floor. It was a commendable effort, but as he lifted them from their feet despite their protestations they quickly decided cold, sullen acceptance did more to preserve their threadbare dignity and they lapsed into a hateful compliance. They were animal warm and trembling. He could feel the rabbit-swift patter of their heart against his chest.

They stiffened against the affectionate press of his mouth but did not turn away. They could not bear the mortification of holding themself against him and their hands stayed markedly clenched as he carried them to his room.

When deposited on his bed they released an aggravated breath and rolled to one side where they could watch carefully through dark lashes as he closed the door behind them. Vexation darkened their eyes as their predicament was made clear. They did not deign to answer his gentle question, only meeting his gaze with mulish detachment, a feline shape curled in his bed.

He would not struggle to remove their clothes, though they stubbornly did nothing to assist, laying limp and bloodless as a corpse as he lifted their limbs. They regarded him with blank recalcitrance when he pulled them close. It was only the gentle touch of his fingers as he swept their hair from their eyes that elicited a faint flinch.

They returned his gaze in silence, their once-careful application of black liner smeared in pleasing streaks beneath the moss green of their pretty eyes. His weary examination proved too much and they turned their head aside, burying their forehead in the hollow beneath his chin to break the torturous contact.

They had nothing else to say. And despite the angry heat radiating from them, it was not long before their breathing calmed and the curve of their body pressed against him grew heavy with sleep.