Laurent, I am your slave. Damen's proximity and the wine had made a dull roar in Laurent's ears, yet the remembered words filtered through, Damen's face as he had spoke them, Damen's face when Laurent flung them back at him, days later. He drew a breath, reminding himself to take care.

'So trusting,' said Laurent, and at this particular moment, it did not sound like a judgment. It was an observation, perhaps even an envious one. 'Such simple, earnest want.' Laurent looked up, making a request he had dispensed with before.

'May I touch you?'