"Do I?" It's par for the course, less surprising than the quiet intimacy of early morning walks, and really, they are both stuck in their skins. "You look shocked," he mumbles, eyebrow raises in interest when the bags under Cesare's eyes twitch with narrowing muscles and the line of the mouth hardens.

Alex twists up for a kiss to steal, branding, burning - isn't that the whole holy water story on people's skins, forcing himself up on his elbow to take what Cesare twists out of reach.

The fingernail straddles pleasure and pain, Alex winces, a good humored smirk. "Maybe. But it's you who wants to fuck Satan, then."