How could Gust say that and not expect him to feel it regardless? He had wanted this for so long, never daring to so much dream that it might happen in reality. He rarely indulged himself in the quiet dark, but it was always to the image of his dearest friend; always with the guilty knowledge that ...

"I'm so sorry–" The soft, horrified words were spoken as he lowered his hands, only to have them pulled away and Gust kissing him again. At first he relaxed into it – and then the taste and texture filled his mouth, and his embarrassment was compounded by the absolutely pathetic whimper that ...

Things were moving far too quickly, and far too slowly. Fear still coiled about Luc's heart and mind, but this was Gust's home; if he said that the staff wouldn't bother them, that this was safe, Luc would believe him. His lust wouldn't allow him any other alternative. Even accepting that this would ...

At least she hadn't ignored him for weeks on end; then again, if she had arrived during the whirlwind of trying to move his things and settle in his new quarters and accustom himself to the bishop's schedule, he would have had to do the impossibly rude thing of ignoring her, or at least begging her ...

Luc couldn't do much else but scoff at the idea of it. There was no conceivable future where he could hate Gust. His friend frustrated him, hurt him at times, teased with a sharp edge that had drawn blood more times than Luc dared admit to even himself, but through it all, it was the two of them ...

Luc had been mid-sip, and as all these thoughts passed through his harried and liquored mind, the whiskey had burned away in his mouth. By the time he swallowed it back, thickly, it felt as though he was swallowing his numb tongue as well. "You're drunk." Far outpacing the anger was the desperation ...

It had been a mistake to come here alone. He knew that, now. Whatever thing had wormed its way under Gust's skin, whatever injury he thought Luc had done him, Luc could neither fathom it nor did he think it likely that Gust would admit it even if he asked. If Tansy had been here, perhaps she could ...

Whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been this.

Later, perhaps, he would review the words in his mind; find them lacking the accusing, bitter taint he heard in them at first. But in that moment, the last drops of whiskey catching the flickering light from the lamp, the words were an exceptionally well ...

For all that it had been an impossible jest, the immediate and unequivocal rejection still stung. Luc's smile faded in spite of himself, his gaze shifting away in an unwitting mirror to Gust's own behavior. For a brief moment his lips pressed together in an unhappy grimace, but then he forced a new ...

It was a bold offer, for the both of them. It was well enough for Luc to fear for how the apartment might fare, or how poor Mrs. Dougal might handle Eoin if he behaved poorly, but the priest was not ignorant of the leash it represented to the other man. It was an obligation, a form of ownership to ...