[ Again, he's reminded of Jack, this time with a pulse of blood that he could wish wasn't quite so strong. Being seen with a clarity that feels as rough and revealing as sandpaper on wood. Bodies pulling inexorably closer.
This man isn't Jack, he reminds himself. He doesn't even know the arsehole's name. He doesn't know if he can be trusted to stop when Alan means stop, or if he even wants to fuck Alan the way Alan wants to be fucked at all.
Although he feels like he could make a pretty good guess to that last one.
His hand curls around Sylus' forearm, almost without his own notice, and he leans in further as well. When he speaks, his voice is low. ]
What makes you think I would tell a lordly little shit like you something like that?
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This man isn't Jack, he reminds himself. He doesn't even know the arsehole's name. He doesn't know if he can be trusted to stop when Alan means stop, or if he even wants to fuck Alan the way Alan wants to be fucked at all.
Although he feels like he could make a pretty good guess to that last one.
His hand curls around Sylus' forearm, almost without his own notice, and he leans in further as well. When he speaks, his voice is low. ]
What makes you think I would tell a lordly little shit like you something like that?