[the idea had never even crossed his mind. he wants to refute it, to reassure him that it was only his poor mental state that fed into that part of him... but he can't, can he? they don't know. they can't possibly know.

he lifts his head from his shoulder, but otherwise doesn't move.]

Has that been weighing on you this entire time? That you may have helped Vile resurface?

[he reaches down to wrap his hand around the one against his femur.]

You aren't responsible for what happened. The armor began showing up before we so much as held hands. That started my mental deterioration. [he tilts his head.] You may have rattled the cage bars, but you weren't the one who woke it up. That was entirely my doing.

I wish I could prove it, but I don't know how.

[time and again, he finds himself stunned by the amount of faith the Captain puts in him. what is it that he's done to engender such trust, and what can he do to ensure he never falls short? he's so painfully accustomed to letting the people he cares about down. he refuses to repeat those same mistakes here.]

You have that, yes. You always will. And I am not going anywhere, Vile be damned.

[he laughs] No? Not even if it means lying to the cops and hiding me from the law?

[HEAD. TILT.]

Does that mean you've tried?

It's less about the heels and more about the idea of you running anywhere...

[you're kinda lazy babe]

That would be so much effort for such a couch potato...

[he's a multitasker, as evidenced by the way he tangles his fingers in his hair and tugs his head back.]

[he leans forward, scraping his teeth across his throat.]

Tell me more? [this is the best interrogation he's ever participated in]

[his phalanges scrape against his scalp, his teeth nipping at the curve of his jaw.]

I'd love to drag him behind a carriage, if he weren't already dead.

[he assumes, anyway.]

Hmmm. Yes. Here you are. You've outlasted them all, more powerful and more loved than they could have ever fathomed.

[he trails his fingers down the back of his neck, and decides then and there that he doesn't want to spend the time it would take to undress him. it's much easier to simply have him be naked, bare skin against his Bespoke suit.]

Still thinking about kicking me out? [so smug]

Is that so?

[he traces his fingers over his shoulders, down his chest. one hand stops to play with a nipple, rolling the flesh between his fingers. the other hand drifts lower still, following the trail of hair down between his thighs.]

Luckily for me, I can be very persuasive.

[he rubs one finger briefly across his clit, before sinking into the wet folds below. just one finger at first, but he soon can't resist adding another; the lack of skin and muscle allows his phalanges to probe deeper than they otherwise should be able to, and he hums in delight as he curls them against the tight muscle.]

Feels like I already have.