Aelius's smile widened and he scoffed softly. "Since day one. How could I not, Lord Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious?" He was delighted to see that little smile and flush on Walter's face. "Glad you don't want me to leave quite yet. I was afraid my prying may have ruined our night. You..." His hand wandered from lightly playing with fine silks to fingers brushing the lord's skin and trailing along his jawline. Eyes simmered to the glow of fading cinders, features softening. "..you've been through a lot. I'm sorry."

There was a gentleness to his touch - in this moment, his flirting was set aside. Despite the fear he felt so deeply looking into this same face just a little while ago, he felt too strongly about the hardships the poor man had faced. Empathy overwrote fear.

Then, calloused and warm palm pressing against his neck, Aelius didn't let the topic linger. He ran his fingers briefly through Walter's hair at the base of his neck. "Mmh.. Do I want to stay this close?" His other hand caught Walter's before he could pull it away. Fingers gripped the man's chin and turned his face back towards Aelius.

His smile was warm again, lashes low over his eyes, thumb rubbing gently along Walter's palm. "This close. Closer, perhaps." Aelius had more to say to the man, more questions, but... who was he to turn down the perfect opportunity?

"And perhaps when you've finished your song, I could help mend the solemn mood and warm your bed for the night?"
 
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"The Captain-of-Just-Under-A-Thousand - that you've been interested in getting stabbed by since day one - would beg to differ, I'm sure," Walter murmured, a breath of a chuckle landing once his lips closed.

The tension in him was ringing through his nerves, and it felt paradoxical that he was this receptive to so little as a warm touch, especially once fingers glided along his jaw. Walter's face tilted slightly, his gaze losing its cut veiled under the lowering eyelids. He had always been weak for this. He had been touch-starved for a long time, enough to seek it even when it meant confusing implications. Even when it meant he had to stop himself, crush down with a steel gauntlet grip of his own will - and shield himself from what letting go would bring.
He was not safe.
This was political.

It did not matter that the fingers on his neck, almost anywhere but the scarred throat, made him shiver with a mix of emotions, and those shivers sparked downward more than up.
"This close. Closer, perhaps."​
Those eyes were the color of spiced liquor in hearthlight, Walter thought as his attention was returned.
He wanted this. The feeling of roughened fingertips barely pressing against skin, the heat that radiated from them.
He hated wanting. He needed a drink.

"You have a lovely charm, makes it hard to refuse when you pair it with the right touch so well,... hard to refuse you most anything," the baron offered, softly, as if sharing his forming opinion on a particularly delectable wine. Analysis helped claw back from the want.
"That and your winsome confidence," His captured hand moved, fingers extending to Aelius' cheek, the handsome cut of the cheekbones unmentioned, "must have yielded many victories." His smile was affectionate, light, but in a way that seemed almost distant. His eyes, along with the faint twin creases between his brows, darkened with sadness. His eyes moved off the paladin's face.

But I've buried so many boys.

He thought of the night in the forest, the desperate brutish rutting, half-drunk half-hopeful that something good would come out of buried affections and a desire to forget, the cherries sour and sweet on the tongue. He thought of the art room, the portraits frozen in time with eyes that shone like those of the living moreso than the painter's, the cold hands that could only be warmed by a single means. He thought of the oak medallion, the strange martyr and his dimpled smile, eyes reflecting in the dark, and the sketches for woodcarving in his journal. He thought of the storm.

You're leaving in the morning. You will be gone... and if luck should turn, gone truly. I've had my share of pain. No more.
What could he say?

"I don't..."
A short, sharp inhale through the parted lips, as if trying to sober more. A brief glance up into the ember-like eyes. Pleading. Knowing. Grieving. But when he spoke, the words landed softly, because he remembered holding someone scared in his arms. Once the inhale filled his lungs a little, Walter tried again, a smile tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth.
"I don't think I could give you what you're looking for, Aelius. I could not deprive you of that lightness and fondness in your smile when you speak of your paramours. The way I am, however - I do not share, nor wish to be shared. I'm- sorry," a half-step back, his heel hit the leg of his own chair, square and heavy, impact reverberating in the bone, balance barely retained.

You should not have touched. I should not have leaned in. Should not want to be touched.
"Shit," the cuss came out slightly choked. "I'm sorry, lamb, I can't play this game. Embraced fate before, buried two and lost another two, and that's three too many, don't you think? Might jinx your expedition and all."
There. Some degree of control before his mind would enter freefall.
 
It began just as expected. Aelius was almost never turned down - so the lean in to his touch, the eyelids lowering, the soft compliments, and the hand on his cheek... it was all expected, and it was all eaten up. He savored seeing the lord like this. The fingers along his cheek elicited a soft sigh as he, too, leaned into that touch. The poor man could really use some stress relief, Aelius was certain; and he was more than happy to provide. He wanted to see Walter melt under his touch more. He wanted to see him flushed, writhing, and moaning Aelius' name.

Aelius started to lean in close, sights set on those lips.

But the look in Walter's eyes as they drifted away from Aelius made him stop short.

Brows furrowed slightly in confusion, concern. He watched, waited. Their eyes met again, and he saw such a deep grief in them, a plea... Aelius frowned, his grip on the man's chin loosening as he listened.

His words were confusing. Didn't share, or want to be shared..? It was just them right now, he wasn't sharing anyone at the moment... It didn't quite process that monogamy was a thing. Not in this moment, at least. Not with the heat between them, bodies so close, lips within reach...

Walter stumbled back, managed to barely catch himself, but Aelius instinctively grabbed onto him to keep him from falling, hands around his waist. The paladin's lips parted to speak, but Walter continued on immediately, almost as if in a panic. And that's when Aelius finally started to understand. A few rapid blinks before his expression softened, shoulders sinking, and his lips turned up in a small, sad smile.

One arm still around the man's waist, he brought his hand up to brush some dark hair from Walter's face. "I understand. I'm sorry." Voice soft, as if afraid he would hurt him if he spoke any louder. And yet, the look in his eyes was not just that of pity; a subdued pain, buried but freshly dug up.

He didn't let go quite yet. Instead, he pulled Walter close into his chest and rested his chin atop his head, hand running through his hair as he embraced the man. "You're not a jinx. I'm sorry. I've lost, too; I understand."

After a few moments, he finally relinquished his grip on Walter and pulled back with that same soft smile. "I won't push. You're a lovely man, and I'm more than happy to keep chatting. If you'll still have me, that is."
 
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There was a noise, swallowed down almost into nonexistence. Not of protest. Walter sank into the embrace without resistance, as if the fight left him at denying the pure want - Aelius', his own alike. He raised hands to the back of the taller man's arms, touched above the elbows, rested fingertips against the ribcage. He could feel the heart beating through the fingertips, he could swear.

This had to be political... somehow.
He had no shield against soft power. None.
For all the terrifying unbreakable juggernaut that he was against violence wrought.

Eyes closed, and he let the warmth sink under his skin, to the hallowed bones, and did his best to breathe. To not let himself slip. To not break down or let tears overflow or choke him beyond speech. Walter stayed close, for as long as it lasted, disbelief catching up belatedly.
He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the seconds to pass and the air change imperceptibly to something indifferent, belying absence to come. But it didn't. At least, not in this moment. Confusion splashed together with understanding, more logic than instinct, that he was grateful. The instinct, some distant part of it, was waiting for the air to change still - a testament to the past more than the present.

When Aelius let go, Walter moved back, slowly, and sat down, nodding. Words would not come for a moment until he pushed out a slightly hoarse, "Thank you. I'm- yes, you're welcome for as long as you like, and to whatever spirits or their counterparts you find in here." Presenting strong was out the window now, certainly. "Would you tell me?" Of the loss, went unspoken. "If you're feeling like you can. And then I'll..." ...sing. Because he could not break a promise.
 
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